


Return to Sender

by PoeticPillock



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Drama, Gen, Science Fiction, Techno-Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 60
Words: 459,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13036452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticPillock/pseuds/PoeticPillock
Summary: In the wastelands of Western America, a man known as the "Courier" has, unfortunately, become a sort of legend among Wastelanders. But he is flung far from the Mojave to a great, new world populated by their own legends. Those who have left a legacy, or are trying to, with a bygone organization called "Overwatch". The world could always use more heroes... If he even fits the bill.Crossposted from FF.net.





	1. Tracking

Five miles south of Primm, Mojave Wasteland

2285

It was an arid, dry day in the Mojave. The blistering sun was beating down on the already barren landscape, cooking anything within its view. Life was sparse but it still found a way to eke out some kind of existence in the wasteland. Cacti and shrubs have long called the desert their home, and the animals were just as hardy and much more dangerous if they were feeling extra ornery that day. And the people… Well, a lot can be said about them.

Many have lived in the Mojave for practically their entire lives, while many others were outsiders. They all had different jobs, different professions: Farmers, bartenders, prospectors, traders, doctors, soldiers, bandits, raiders, and couriers; to name a few. Sometimes cycling in and out of their professions. Today, bounty hunting was the profession.

A gecko was just basking in shade by a couple of rocks, taking in the Mojave heat. The lizard was undisturbed and was relaxing under its shelter for some time before it heard footsteps not too far from where it rested. Opening its eyes, it is immediately alarmed to see a rather large figure draped in black and with metal on its head walking along the stretch of road it was basking by. The figure had a medium-sized backpack, with a large, dark piece of metal strapped to the side. There was also another slightly smaller piece of metal slung over its shoulder, its color was a jumble of green and black stripes. It was holding a thin object, its face focused on it the entire time. Also concerning was the creature that was accompanying the figure by its side. It was walking on all fours and was furry. Its coat was largely black and gray and had a pointed face with pointed ears. Not wanting to be possibly eaten, the gecko scurries away on its hind legs, kicking up some dust in the air.

The man stops and turns his head to his right, watching the dust fizzle as he sees a gecko run behind some rocks.

He let out an amused huff, before returning his gaze to the piece of tan paper plastered with the word "WANTED".

The wanted poster had an etch of a man with grime all over his face, a somewhat rough beard, and little to no hair on his head. The description on the poster identified him as the leader of a gang of tech raiders, wanted by NCR law enforcement for a multitude of offenses: theft, assault, murder, rape, and Brahmin rustling; and were to be armed and dangerous, as expected of people who end up on wanted posters. It also stated the raider and his crew were last sighted south of the Nipton ruins. The hunter wondered why they were there, of all places.

'Nothing but molerats and Vipers gangs there', he recalls. Something certainly caught their attention.

He was then broken out of his train of thought when he heard his dog sniffing and pawing at the ground, away from the cracked road he was on. The owner moves to his dog's side, kneeling to take a closer look at what the canine was pawing at. It was a large group of tracks. Human. Fresh, as well

'Too many footprints to just be a caravan', he examined, counting around 8-10 individuals.

However, he noticed one of the sets of prints was significantly larger than the others. More than twice the size, in fact, and was heavily indented into the dirt.

'Shit…', upon realizing his situation. 'One of them has Power Armor.'

Wasn't the first time he's dealt with Power Armor. He couldn't tell what type of model armor the raider was wearing. T-45d was tough but had fairly exploitable weaknesses. T-51b would be much more dangerous, requiring either cunning or heavy firepower, or both. And God forbid if the bastard had Enclave Mk. 2…

The hunter then swings the backpack to his chest and starts to rummage through it. He had a couple of grenades of varying types that he always kept handy if the situation called for it, which it soon might. However, he always preferred a long-range option, especially one with some extra kick. So, he grabs the black rifle from the holster on the backpack and starts to insert long .45-70 Gov't rounds through the receiver, chambering a round with the lever, resulting in a satisfying noise of metal grinding and clunking.

"Alright, Cooper," the masked man said, addressing the dog. "Lead the way."

With a bark, his dog then briskly walks ahead of him, periodically sniffing the ground as he does.

They follow the trail for some time, not long before they passed Nipton Ruins until Cooper leads them to the target. Within a few minutes, they reached the site where the Tech Raiders were camped out: Mojave Drive-In Theater. The question of why they were there was then immediately answered.

'So, that's what you're all there for, huh?' the bounty hunter thought perched behind a rock, peering through the scope of his Brush Gun at the group of raiders, standing around the hull of a crashed satellite.

"Couldn't resist Big Mountain tech…" he says, as he pulls back the hammer on his rifle with his thumb, priming it.

* * *

 

Roughly 100 miles NW of Las Vegas, Nevada, Mojave Desert

2076

Two soldiers in black uniforms and tactical gear, wielding rifles in their hands and donning metal helmets with blood red eyes, stood outside of the gate to a rusted fence perimeter. Basically, they were doing nothing, standing guard while the rest of their detachment did whatever the hell they were doing inside the base. They weren't told much and that suited them just fine most of the time, but standing around in the Mojave heat in largely black, bulky clothing wasn't something they were comfortable with.

"This heat is making my balls itch," complained one of the guards, fidgeting in the sun.

"The fuck do you want me to do about it?" replied the other guard.

"I dunno. Scratch 'em for me?" he snarkily bit back. "And what the hell are we doing in bumfuck Nevada, anyway? This place just looks like a shithole."

They were currently guarding the entrance to what seemed to be an old military base, that was either decommissioned or abandoned long ago. Didn't look like it was worth anything, but it was apparently important enough for a detachment to be sent to scope out and scavenge the place.

"If you paid attention in the briefing, they told us to recon and extract anything that looks important. Tech, weapons, documents, and such. This used to be an Overwatch site, after all," the guard clarified, turning his attention to some tumbleweed blowing into the distance. "Just wish we weren't always put on guard duty."

As he focused on the tumbleweed, his attention then drifted to a dark object in the sky, which steadily became larger and larger. His eyes widened as the object then landed between him and the other guard, square in the dirt.

"OH FU-" exclaimed the guard before he was met with a bright flash and ringing ears.

Everything became a blur as he started leaning against the chain-link fence and tossed away his helmet to clutch his ears and trying to soothe the ringing. As his vision slowly came back, he looked to see the other guard being overpowered by some blue-orange blur. Before he could react, he felt something metal grab him by his shoulder, turn him around, and promptly got pistol-whipped in the face by a huge revolver, turning his world black.

"Sorry 'bout that," said a gruff voice with a Western drawl.

The man then flipped his revolver before holstering it, adjusting his brown Stetson hat to keep the Mojave sun out of his eyes. He then looks over to the other guard, currently being held in a chokehold by a woman with spiky hair, orange-tinted goggles, a bomber jacket, and yellow leggings. The guard was grabbing at her face and white gauntlets, but she wouldn't let up.

"Need any help there, Trace?" asked the man with the stetson.

"Nah, I'm good, McCree. Just have to…" replied the woman in a very British accent, increasing the pressure on the man until he finally became weaker and drifted into unconsciousness. "There you go! Off to bed with you!"

She released the man and let him slump to the dirt. Standing up and dusting herself off, she then walks towards the entrance with McCree and gazes at the warehouses, hangars, and buildings within the base. She takes a deep breath and sighs.

"Been an awfully long time since I've last been here. Since the  _Slipstream_..." she solemnly noted.

McCree raises an eyebrow at her, before putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No need to be thinkin' about that right now, especially on a mission. Besides, no point dawdlin' in the past. I'd know," he reassured.

"Yeah, yeah… I know what you mean, love," she replies, shooting McCree a warm smile before holding up a finger to her left ear. "We're at the entrance now, Winston. Copy?"

"Copy that," replied a deep, gruff voice over the radio. "All Overwatch documents Athena was able to pull up over this base indicates that what we really need is in a concrete building situated next to a large hanger. Have a visual on anything similar?"

Tracer then scans the base, looking for any building that fit the description. Her eyes then landed on a rather large hanger, practically twice the size of the others. She then spotted a building to the right of it.

"Yup, I've got eyes on the target," Tracer confirmed.

"Excellent. Make your way there, but try not to go in guns blazing!" Winston suggested. "We can't have the entire base going on full alert before you are even in the building."

"Isn't D.Va on standby in case that happens?" asked McCree.

"She is, but I doubt shooting up the base would make your job any easier. Just make sure to retrieve the blueprints and get out safely. Good luck. Winston out."

As the radio went silent, McCree then pulls out a spray can of liquid nitrogen out of his pack and shakes it.

"You ready?" he asks.

Flipping out her dual Pulse Pistols from her gauntlets, the gal then smirks.

"Make sure you catch up, alright, love?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I would just like to thank you for reading the first chapter of my first fanfiction, ever. First posted on FF.net, and now coming to AO3!
> 
> I should mention this Courier, whose name will be revealed soon, is based off a Courier in my modded playthrough of New Vegas. Don't worry, his story should be rather lore friendly and I won't say what mods as that could potentially spoil plot-points I have planned. I'll also make sure to be detailed, so people won't be left scratching their heads at what I'm referencing. Also, I should make it clear that I am NOT going to reference anything from the East Coast Fallouts, lore-wise. The main reason is that I do not see any reason for including anything from those games into my story, and I feel any inclusion will just undermine the characters and events of New Vegas; both canon and fanon.
> 
> Also, I should mention that I originally published this story long before a whole bunch of Overwatch lore, characters, comics, cinematics, etc., was released. So, some of the events that happen in this story don't directly coincide with the current canon. This, unfortunately, couldn't be avoided since I can't predict the future, but oh well...
> 
> Updates will vary, as I have school and life to deal with, but I promise not to leave this story dead in the water.
> 
> Please feel free to leave any reviews/criticisms you have and thank you again for reading!


	2. Execution

Mojave Drive-In Theater, Mojave Wasteland

2285

"What in the fuck is that?" the bounty hunter asked, rather loudly.

Peering through his scope, he was waiting for the raider in power armor to at least appear before taking a shot. He eventually did see a hulking figure come into view, taller and bulkier than the others. What he saw was… Not quite what he expected.

He was waiting for someone to pop up with T-45d, or even low-grade T-51b. Instead, he saw a mangled shell of rusted and dented metal, seemingly plastered and welded together somewhat haphazardly. It seemed to mainly comprise of sheet metal, recycled power armor bits, and shopping cart parts. This was a first, and he was almost tempted to just shoot a slug against the chest piece to see if it can hold. But the bounty hunter restrained himself and simply observed the armor, seeing if it had any weaknesses for him to exploit. Eventually finding one.

* * *

"So… Where did this thing come from?" asked one of the raiders, kneeling down examining the hull of the satellite.

"...Space?" replied another raider.

"I know it came space, you dolt," responded the kneeling raider. "I meant who made this thing in the first place. I don't know what the hell a 'Big Empty' is…"

He was examining white markings on the hull which had a hexagon and the words 'Big MT.' painted on. Heavy thumps on the ground distracted him as he looked away.

"Can you guys quit sitting around and get to fucking work?!" barked a raider approaching them in power armor and towering over them. "The sooner we tear this fucking thing apart and find anything worthwhile, the sooner we get out of this fucking hot shithole!"

"Uh, boss? We don't exactly have power tools to help us..." replied another raider.

"You guys are fucking useless!" exclaimed the armored raider, before he moved over to the satellite and pushing the kneeling raider away.

"Hey! What are you doi-" was all the raider said before a power armored foot slammed itself into the hull of the satellite. The force of the kick, surprisingly, resulted in a panel coming loose of the side and exposed a console with a blue screen, buttons, and diodes. "... Huh."

"Great! Now get off your asses and start scra-" was all the armored raider could say before a shot hit him on the side of his knee, disabling a servo and causing his stance to be lopsided. "Fuck! Son of a bitch!"

With a thunderous boom, another shot rings out and a round strikes the knee servo on his other leg, causing the raider to lose balance before falling straight on his face. Unable to move much due to the awkward shape of his armor.

"Ah, shit! Run for i-" screamed a tech raider, before she was cut short by a large rifle round to the jugular.

Other raiders tried to dash for cover but were cut down before they were even close to anything solid. Some tried fighting back, shooting in the direction they thought the shots were coming from, before being knocked down by some unseen force. Some of their heads exploded into gory bits, while others were shot in their chests and thrown down with the wind whistling. They were picked off one by one as the shots rang out, not having a chance to do anything. They were easy prey.

Then, everything went silent.

Only three tech raiders were left now; The leader lying helplessly on the floor in power armor and two other that were currently ducking behind the satellite hull. They refuse to dare move from their cover. Then, the raiders heard footsteps in the distance with the sound of dirt shifting and crunching, steadily growing louder and closer. In a split-second decision, one of the raiders gets out of cover to run for it but is gunned down before she even got her legs moving. The other raider is now by himself, clutching his shotgun and hyperventilating, listening to the footsteps get even louder. His eyes were darting everywhere, trying to find salvation. The sun mercilessly bearing down on him in his cover. Listening to their killer get closer by the second. Then, the footsteps stopped. The raider shut his eyes and after a few moments gritted his teeth before strengthening the grip of his shotgun. He quickly rose from cover.

He screamed a fearful battle cry as he tried to level his shotgun before being immediately peppered with multiple rifle rounds, his body recoiling with each round. His bloody corpse slumps to the ground, relinquishing the grip on his shotgun and staining the old concrete below with a pool of blood.

Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, the man in the duster then moves over to the side of the armored raider and planted his right boot firmly on his back.

"Hey, asshole!" the raider yelled, trying to put up some bravado to compensate for his precarious position. "You are in for a world of hurt, y'hear! Ya' think that fancy shooting's gonna save you?!"

Bending over, the man then flips a switch on the armored backside, ejecting a fusion core from its socket and rendering the armor powerless.

'Oh, fuck…' the raider thought, unable to even move his armored arms.

He stammered, "Y-you think I need this suit to kill you! When I get out I'm going to-"

A set of brown boots then came into the raiders limited view, before he felt something grab at the wire of his helmet and then being blinded by the daylight without a visor. Blinking, he looked up and squinted at the figure who was towering over him. He had a dark gray-silver helmet with faded red eyes, a brown duster entrenched over a vest of gray riot armor that had a bandolier of large rifle cartridges splayed over it. He looked at the figures right hand and saw a pistol with a silver-colored slide, and then looked to the man's left hand to see a Pip-Boy on his forearm. It immediately clicked within the raider's head who this man was, and his heart sunk into the reaches of his chest and all the boldness he displayed was now gone in an instant. It was the bane among all raiders standing over him, whether it was the Fiends, Jackals, Vipers, and Tech Raiders, it didn't matter. He was the reason he and his crew were scrounging around the desert like bums. Why all the raiders in the Mojave scrounged around like bums. The ones who survived, at least.

"Oh man…" he whimpered, on the verge of bursting into tears. "Of course, it's you… Of course, it fucking had to be the  _Courier!_ "

The Courier merely stared down at him, silently being the judge and jury.

"Listen," the wanted man pleaded. "I learned my lesson! I-I promise I'll leave this shit behind! I swear! I'll be a farmhand! I'll shovel brahmin shit if I have to! I'll go to the Followers! Help hobos! Just-"

He silenced himself as the Courier knelt, his helmet much closer to the raider's face. His left hand cupped the raider by the chin as he inspected his dirty face with those red visors. The raider could only comply with his actions, hopelessly trapped and with nowhere to go. After a few seconds of his judgment, the Courier made a low grumble. The raider raised an eyebrow, confused before the Courier's right hand shot out under and drove a rusty combat knife into his throat. The bounty's eyes shot wide open, struggling to mutter words or even breath as the blade sliced his jugular and forced blood to flood into and out of his mouth. The bounty's entire body convulsed for moments, a sick gurgling noise coming from his throat as he struggled to get in one last gulp of air. The man in the black armor silently watching him die. Finally, with one last death rattle from his throat, his eyes glazed over and his head slumped forward. His mouth was left agape, blood dripping from it.

The Courier retrieved his knife from the throat and brought the blade to the side of the head of the now deceased raider. He began to slice away at the flesh of his left ear until it came loose.

"Ain't a finger, but it should be enough for identification," he said to no one in particular as he stowed the ear away in his pack. The wanted poster did say he was wanted "dead or alive", and there was a time where he would've considered the latter option. But…

The Courier stands up and looks around his surroundings, seeing bodies and bits of flesh strewn everywhere around the satellite. The old Pre-War drive-in their grave. He then notices the open panel of the satellite, seeing the familiar site of the console. He walks over and kneels next to it, examining it for any damage.

"Hmm… Been some time since I last visited Big Mountain," he said. "Wonder if they finished up that little project for me?"

Suddenly, he hears a bark and growling from behind and looks to his side to see Cooper glaring off into the distance. His tail propped, his spine fuzzed, and his ears perked.

"See something, boy?" he asks, glaring off into the distance, too, until his eyes focus onto some rubble not too far from the drive-in.

He swings the rifle off from his shoulder and was about to look through the scope, before he quickly dove to the side as a spear nearly grazed him and sunk itself into the console of the satellite, causing it to fizzle and crack. He then quickly grabs Cooper and dives behind the satellite, before rummaging through his backpack and pulling out a frag grenade. Peering over his cover, he sees a glimpse of crimson before a bullet forces him to duck down. He grits his teeth, seething.

"Fucking Legion…"

* * *

Decommissioned Overwatch Base, Nevada, Mojave Desert

2076

"I thought Winston told you to be sneaky until we got here!" yelled McCree, who was taking cover by a doorway and taking potshots before being forced back in by returning fire.

McCree and Tracer were currently held up in the concrete building that supposedly housed the documents they needed. The room they were in was spacious and looked to be some sort of laboratory as there were equipment and tools strewn about. There were no windows, and the only way in or out was the doorway currently being peppered by gunfire. Tracer was running and blinking all over the lab's observation room, searching all the desks, cabinets, and drawers for the documents. The mission was running smoothly up until they reached the building.

"Not my bloody fault he started shooting wildly into the air when I grabbed him!" the Brit yelled, rummaging through a cabinet and finding nothing worthwhile. "Bollocks!"

Pulling out a flashbang from his belt, McCree pulls the pin and throws it into the hallway, dazing some soldiers. Coming out of cover, he starts to fan the hammer on his Peacemaker and sends rounds into the hallway, taking down 3-4 soldiers. He dives to the other side of the doorway as they start to return fire.

"Frag out!" one of the soldiers declared, as a grenade rolls its way through the doorway and into the observation room, right at Tracer's feet.

"Tracer, look out!" McCree warns, Tracer looking at the grenade and immediately blinks out of range as it explodes and demolishes the room. Tracer blinks back in and starts hacking a cough from all the dust and debris it kicked up. Recovering she opens her eyes and sees that the cabinets that were now knocked out of the way by the grenade were hiding a safe on the wall.

'Of course, there's a safe,' she thought as she rolled her eyes.

Blinking up to it and realizing she doesn't know the combination, she instead pulls out one of her Pulse Charges. Planting the device on the safe, she blinks behind a pillar and hopes it doesn't destroy the contents inside.

It detonated, kicking up, even more, dust in the room, much more than the grenade earlier. Tracer looks over to see that the safe door was now hanging by its hinges, exposing the inside. She blinks over and peers inside, and sees that there are blue folders with the Overwatch logo printed onto the covers. All of them had the words "CLASSIFIED" stamped all over them in red, and one folder had the words "Project: Slipstream" typed along the top.

"Found them!" Tracer cheerily declared among the gunfire.

"Great! Now get 'em and let's get the hell outta dodge!" yelled McCree, inching away from the doorway as gunfire chipped away at it.

Tracer pulls out a bag and zips it open, grabbing the folders and stuffing them into the bag. Before she zips it up, she looks up at the inside of the safe and freezes, her eyes widening in shock. She reaches into the safe and pulls out a strange, circular, metallic device. The Pilot eyes it closely, examining how it's design and shape was extremely familiar. It did not look too dissimilar from what was on her chest piece... Or what was in the  _Slipstream_.

'But… I thought they only ever made one...' Tracer reflected, taken back to a darker time.

She was told before the program that the device, the Teleportation Matrix, was one of a kind: a prototype. In the months following, after her "illness" was stabilized, she was also told that the  _Slipstream_ program was canceled indefinitely because of the incident. She'd never thought she would see the device, or anything like it, ever agai-

"Tracer, what the hell are ya doin'?!" McCree barked, breaking her out of the trance. She stuffs the device into the bag and zips it up, before blinking to McCree's side.

"Sorry about that," she apologized. "So… what now?"

"You got any bombs left?" asked McCree, gritting his teeth over the gunfire.

"Just the one," Tracer replied, pulling it off her side.

"Well, I got one flashbang left," McCree explained, pulling up a flashbang. "So, after I toss it into the hallway and daze 'em, that's where you come in and give us an opening… Ready?"

"Ready!" she replied.

"Now!" yelled McCree as he throws his last flashbang into the hallway.

As the flashbang detonated, Tracer bolted from cover and into the hallway towards the group of dazed Talon soldiers. Priming the Pulse Charge in her left hand, she jumps and blinks over the group before tossing the bomb into the middle. She then quickly "recalls", warping her back in cover at the doorway with McCree. The Pulse Charge detonates, sending the soldiers flying and clearing a space in the hallway. The Brit and the American break from their cover and run towards the exit, and start gunning down soldiers who were dazed or recovering. Finding their way out of the building they see a jeep pulling up with soldiers in the front seats. McCree quickly levels his Peacemaker and fans the hammer to quickly fire off rounds at the occupants, killing them and splattering the windshield with blood.

"Seems we got ourselves a ride!" McCree notes, as he makes his way to the driver's side and opens the door, pulling the body out to the ground.

Tracer makes her way to the passenger's side and does the same, before climbing inside and closing the door. McCree climbs inside and punches out the blood-splattered window with his robotic arm to give himself a better view. Looking in the mirror on his side, he sees other jeeps driving towards them.

"Better buckle in your seatbelt!" he advised, as he slammed on the gas and started accelerating towards the exit.

"Winston, we've got what we're here for!" the Time-Jumper exclaimed over the radio

"That's excellent news!" replied Winston.

"But we need you to send D.Va now! We've got Talon on our tail!"

"Oh! Uhh… Roger that!"

Now reaching the exit, McCree slams on the gas and accelerates towards the gate. Noticing a soldier helping another soldier to his feet at the exit, the Cowboy beeps the horn to get their attention. It soon does, as the soldiers then dive out of the way as their jeep breaks through the chain gate. The enemy vehicles in tow.

The jeep that Tracer was firing upon quickly accelerated up to them and slammed into their side, almost forcing their jeep to hit a rock before McCree swerved out of the way.

"Two can play that game, partner!" the gunslinger exclaimed as he swerved the car left and then right, slamming into the enemy jeep and causing it to swerve into a ditch off the road.

"Bloody hell!" screamed the Brit as she was rocked inside the cabin.

"Sorry 'bout that."

Rifle fire then started to ring out as the back window of their jeep shattered into pieces and the leather seats being ripped to shreds. A bullet grazing McCree's headrest. Tracer returns fire at the jeep through the now exposed back and succeeds in taking out the gunner, though another one took his place. Flipping her pistol to recharge it, she fires a burst towards the driver's side. She succeeded, as the car then starts to get wobbly before drifting off into a dune. However, another, even larger jeep took its place, this time with a mounted gun on top that starts ripping into the car and tearing the cabin up. Tracer tries to return fire, but the car then suddenly becomes lopsided on its left and she drops one of her pistols under the seats.

"Goddammit!" exclaimed McCree. "Bastard took out one of the grav-wheels!"

Going as fast as he can through the desert, trying his best to weave in and out of the turret's line of fire. Not exactly easy to do in an open desert. One burst of the machine gun cuts a line through the middle of the car and the engine then starts to sputter from taking a direct hit by a round.

"Well I'll be..." grumbles McCree, as he eyes the speedometer getting lower as the jeep behind them got faster and closer.

Pulling out his revolver, McCree fires wildly at the jeep with Tracer, but to no avail. As McCree spent all the ammo in the cylinder, he quickly ejects the spent cartridges before loading fresh rounds into the cylinder and snapping it back into place. He finishes, and when he looks back and sees the jeep right up against their backs. Just as he assumes the worst, he hears a young, feminine voice call out.

"Player 3 has entered the game!"

Just as he heard that, he sees a large pink mass slam into the truck on their ass, sending it crashing into a large rock and disabling it for good. The pink machine then starts to glide along the side of the other jeeps and fires into the cabins and killing the occupants. One of the jeeps sustained even enough damage to be smoking heavily before it exploded and sent car parts everywhere into the desert. Done with its job, the pink machine then turns towards their jeep and accelerates before gliding along the right side. In the "cockpit" of the machine was a brown-haired, pale-skinned girl, with an ornate black headset, pink "warpaint" on her cheeks, and a blue-pink skin suit with white gloves. She smiled and waved at Tracer and McCree, Tracer waving back as McCree tipped the brim of his hat, relieved to see that their backup came back just in time.

"Cheers, luv!" she exclaimed, in an obviously bad British accent. "The cavulries 'ear!"

"Hey! That's my line!" Tracer laughed.

McCree smirks and puts his left hand to his ear.

"Winston? Mission accomplished, amigo," McCree said over the comms.

"Got all the documents?" asked Winston.

"Documents and then some," Tracer answered, thinking back to the device.

"Haha. Great work, everyone!" congratulated Winston. "Head back to the dropship and I'll see all of you back home. Over and out!"

Taking his finger off the radio, McCree takes a deep breath and looks at the girl in the mech.

"Alright D.Va, lead the way."

The pink mech then takes point, leading them to the dropship's landing zone.


	3. Back Home

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

2076

The dimly-lit cabin of the large, MV-261 Orca dropship hummed softly as it cruised over the ocean sky, only shaking lightly from the occasional turbulence. The cabin was spacious, had plenty of room for a booth and table, a holo-desk with a projection of the world, a kiosk filled with medical supplies and emergency kits, a dispensary with oxygen tanks, and even a small basketball court with a hoop on the wall. Though, that last feature was probably not a built-in one.

Overall, the ride of the cabin was a comfortable one but was largely silent on the way back home. Each of the occupants secluded themselves to different sections of the dropship, going about their own business. DVa had commandeered the basketball court as a makeshift garage, using the space to give her pink MEKA walker a check-up from the mission. McCree decided to retreat to the cockpit using one of the chairs as a resting place while he had his boots propped up against the flight console, his hat tipped forward to cover his eyes. Finally, Tracer had occupied the booth, reading over the documents she had extracted while the strange device was placed next to her lap. Making sure to keep it out of view.

The Pilot's eyes darted back and forth as she carefully read the documents, flipping through the pages and being methodical in her reading. She went over the Slipstream documents, experiment reports and observations, and even examined the documents unrelated to Slipstream and the like. She couldn't find anything. She couldn't find any reference or mention of a second teleportation matrix. Only mentions of the first "prototype" or the first "device". She was even able to find a timestamp of the creation of the first device, the one she flew with, in the Slipstream...

The usually peppy and cheerful Brit was frustrated. There couldn't be any way that Overwatch was in possession of another device. They weren't exactly easy - or cheap - to manufacture. Even the Slipstream jet had to be custom-fitted to the device, costing Overwatch almost trillions of dollars of funding. The only other device she could think of that would've been close to being a duplicate would be the chronal accelerate strapped right to her chest, though it was still largely different. Exasperated, the spiky-haired woman groans and throws back her head into the booth. The sound of approaching footsteps catches her attention.

Opening her eyes, she looks up to see the mech pilot standing on the other side of the table with a curious and slightly worried look on her face. She forces a smile and addresses her.

"Is there anything you need, Hana?" the Brit asks.

"No, I just wanted to see if things were okay," the Korean responds, shaking her head. "You just seem frustrated."

'Like you would not  _believe_ ,' Tracer thought silently to herself.

"It's nothing, love. It's just…"

"Memories of the  _incident_?"

Hana Song eyed the folder document marked "Slipstream". She wasn't originally a part of Overwatch, but she had general knowledge of the incident as it was all over the news the day it occurred. Stories and reports about Overwatch pilot Lena "Tracer" Oxton being presumed MIA in a freak accident, and then presumed dead just weeks later by officials. That was, of course, before there were the sightings of a ghost woman at various Overwatch locations and all over London. Hana did not know much other than those news reports and wasn't sure she wanted to pry further.

"Yeah…" Lena admitted, smile fading away and breaking eye contact for a moment before glancing up and putting on a reassuring smile. "But really. It's nothing to worry about, love. It's all in the past, now, isn't it?"

The gamer smiled back, somewhat comforted to see the one she looked up to as an idol when she was younger, back to a more familiar state. Even if it was just only for a moment. A sound from the ship's intercom got their attention.

"Landing at Watchpoint: Gibraltar."

"Welp," Oxton said, beaming as she assembled the documents. "Time to greet the welcoming party."

The dropship decreases speed until it is just hovering meters above the landing pad. Landing gears protrude out from the corners of its body and it descends until they come in firm contact with the ground. With the engines decreasing their thrust, the cabin door opens and angles itself to the ground, serving as a ramp for Lena, Jesse, and Hana to descend. Ahead, they're greeted by the site of a blonde woman in a skinsuit white at her torso and dark-orange at her legs, a large, muscular giant of a white-bearded man with a brunette in a white tank top and red cargo pants at his side, and a large gorilla wearing square glasses in white space armor.

Lena is gleaming as she rapidly blinks up and hugs every one of them until she reappears in front of them with her hands at her waist. McCree and Hana accompany her at either side.

"It's very good to see that all of you are here and well," said the blonde woman.

"I told you we would be fine, Angela," Lena responded, nudging Hana with her elbow. "Definitely had a couple of close calls, so it's a good thing she was here to save the day!"

The large man crossed his arms over his chest and gave out a hearty laugh. "If it was as treacherous as you make it out to be, then I would love to hear about it!"

The woman next to him rolled her eyes. "I'm sure they're tired, Reinhardt. It would be best to give them some rest."

"Nonetheless, glad to have you all back, " said the gorilla facing the three heroes. "So, where are the documents?"

"Right here, boss," said McCree as he handed the bag of files to Winston, who grinned as he peered inside and saw the blue folders.

"Well, I've said it once and I'll say it again: Good job, everyone! Not only did you make sure Talon will never have the plans to these ever again, but you also ensured no one else will get ahold of these and abuse them for malicious actions."

'About that...' Tracer thought, thinking back to the device she found. She mulled over it for a few moments until shaking that thought off and going back to her peppy demeanor, giving Winston a mock salute.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Winston said, beaming as he sauntered off. "I'll be in the lab, going over these with Athena. Rest easy, guys. You've earned it."

With that, the group went their separate ways on the base. McCree tags along with Reinhardt and the woman, probably to go off to drink and show off his newest tale. Song went back inside the dropship to retrieve her walker. Angela went off towards the Medical Bay, practically her dorm by this point. And finally, Lena Oxton made her way to her private quarters.

It was decently sized, had a bed, bathroom, and a holodeck that served as the computer. It had one window that overlooked a dresser and gave Tracer a view of the ocean horizon in the night. Taking off her goggles, jacket, gauntlets, jumpsuit, and chronal accelerator, she goes into the bathroom and takes a shower to wash off the dirt and grime of the mission. The warm water flows over her, the sensation and heat comforting her and radiating waves of delight, almost making her forget her troubles of the day. However, her thoughts kept drifting back to that device. She tried shoving that thought aside, but like her demeanor, it refused to stay put and got into everything throughout her mind. Despite her own mental protests and McCree's advice earlier.

' _No point dawdlin' in the past'_ , she recalls.

Turning off the water and coming out of the shower, Lena dries herself off and goes back into her room. Putting on a white shirt with an Overwatch logo on the left breast and yellow gym shorts. She placed her chronal accelerator into the recharge station she had in her room, clicking it in with a satisfying  _chunk_ and listening to it hum as she did so. The Pilot falls onto her into bed and stares at the various posters plastered along the adjacent wall. One of them is an old Overwatch poster, proudly showing off an assemblage of Winston, Angela, Reinhardt, and her with an even larger figure of the long-gone commander of Overwatch, Jack Morrison, superimposed onto the background in front of the Overwatch flag. The other is an even older poster for the Royal Air Force, showing a Tornado GR1 against a dimming horizon with the words "Fly It" above the jet.

Looking at these posters brought some solace to the ace pilot. Memories and times of when she felt on top of the world, with the best organization in the world. It brought a smile to her lips… But her thoughts still drifted to-

"Auggghh," she groaned, grabbing at her face and digging them into her eyes. The spiky-haired brunette gets up from her bed and goes to the other side of her room towards her pack. She opens and digs her hands through it, before retrieving the device. She hid it from anyone else and neglected to even put it in the bag when they got back to Gibraltar. The Fighter Pilot studied it, not able to keep her eyes off it. Her right hand slowly goes to rest on her chest, where her chronal accelerator would be, tenderly rubbing her chest and staring at the floor.

"Sod it," she said, before standing, retrieving her accelerator, and going outside of the door. Watching the hallway for any activity, she quickly made her way towards Winston's lab, clutching the device in her hand.

* * *

"Been a long time since I've last seen this," said Winston, sitting at his desk, and examining the blue folders.

The Gorilla-Scientist was inside his room/makeshift laboratory, where he spent most of his time either working on experiments or coordinating movement for the newly-reformed - and illegal - Overwatch. His command room was largely unkempt. Lab equipment and parts were scattered around the first floor, and the tables were filled with all sorts of junk. Hanging in the middle of the room from the ceiling was a giant tire swing, firmly anchored into the brown rock ceiling. On top, the second floor was where the server room and where Winston's desk was located. His "desk" being a high-tech computer, with a multitude of panels displaying holographic images protruding from its sides. It was also largely unkempt, as a few orange jar caps littered one side while the other had a bundle of bananas and stacks of books.

Sitting in his "chair", which was basically another large rubber tire, Winston was flipping through the documents as he studied their contents. He was quite familiar with the Slipstream program as he was one of the chief engineers on the project. He remembers the countless hours spent designing the prototype, the countless tests involving unmanned drones, the eventual test with a live human pilot, and the months spent tracking a ghost. He shook those thoughts away, as he reassured himself it was all over and Lena was safe thanks to his help. It didn't bring her down, so he saw no reason to linger in it further.

Setting aside the Slipstream folder, he drew his attention to the others. After reading them, the Overwatch Scientist wasn't quite sure of what to make of them. Firstly, he wasn't familiar with the details and plans of these documents at all. He owes this lack of knowledge to the fact that he mainly worked on the Slipstream, but even then, he would possess some general knowledge of the sister projects at the same base. It also didn't help that the language was rather vague and seemed to have much of the original contents either scribbled out of expunged. A few buzzwords did stand out to him, but they didn't help in discerning the rest of the documents.

"That's odd," he muttered to himself. "Athena, all records on Watchpoint: Groom Lake classified it strictly as an aviation base, yes?"

"Yes, Winston," responded a feminine voice emanating from the intercom. "All records have indicated to Watchpoint: Groom Lake serving primarily as a testing area for experimental Aeronautic designs of Overwatch as well as those of the US Military."

"Primarily?" Winston questioned.

"Any solid records and reports on Watchpoint: Groom Lake was often… Vague. Much of the secrecy is largely the result of US Government intervention… and the incident involving Ms. Oxton."

Winston's brow furrowed, unsure of what to make of the secrecy. Sure, everything was kept in hushed tones but he would have never expected Overwatch to be so obscure back in the day, especially to its own members. Transparency was one of Overwatch's most admired traits.

Well, for a time…

"You seem to have a visitor, Winston," Athena informed, breaking him out of his train of thought.

Curious, Winston got up from his tire and looked over the railing and towards the doorway. In the dim light, he could see a thin figure, wearing a white shirt, orange shorts, and a glowing chronal accelerator. Winston moved over to the other side of the deck before jumping onto the suspended tire and then climbed down until he lightly landed on the solid black floor. He walked up to the woman with a smile, which faded when he got a closer look at her. She seemed worried. Distraught. And judging from how her left arm was behind her back, she seemed to have something to show. This was not like her at all.

"Tracer, is there something wrong?" Winston asked, with a face of concern. Her face grows apprehensive.

"You remember how the Slipstreamfailed, right?" Tracer asked, despite already knowing the answer.

"Yes, of course! The device suffered a severe malfunction in-flight, and… Well. You know the rest."

"And there was only ever one device made, right?" she questioned further, making her friend raise an eyebrow and look at the arm behind her.

"Tracer…" Winston let out, certain she came here with something to show. "What else did you find at Groom Lake?"

Looking up at Winston with her hazel eyes, full of reluctance, she brought out her left arm from behind and stretched her palm towards Winston. Eyeing her hand, his eyes widen in shock. He slowly reaches out and takes the device into his hands. Gripping it somewhat tightly, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"W-Where did you find this?" the Scientist asked, not breaking eye contact with the device.

"It was in a safe, the same safe where I found all those documents," the Pilot explained, shaking her head. "I wasn't quite sure what to make of it, and I'm honestly just confused."

Suddenly, Winston jumps into the air and onto the tire, clambering up the rope before he leaped to the deck and made his way to his desk. Tracer follows, blinking up the wall and over the rail to stand with Winston at his side as he frantically types onto the keyboard. Multiple holograms and screens pop up, all of them relating to the Slipstream project.

"Athena, pull out all Overwatch records of Slipstream and Watchpoint: Groom Lake," Winston commanded.

Several more screens pop into existence, varying in length and size. Winston rapidly scours through them, his eyes darting back and forth, before further ordering, "Athena, find any references to a second teleportation matrix being built."

"Scanning," Athena complied.

The screens burst with movement, as they individually scroll and descend with rapid speed, some windows blinking out of existence and others phasing in. This goes one for a couple of grueling moments, Winston never taking his eyes off the screen and Tracer becoming slightly worried for her friend. Then, everything stops.

"Zero references found," came Athena on the intercom.

Seeing this, Winston lets out a deep breath before leaning back and putting his hands through the fur on his head out of exasperation. Tracer, seeing this, goes up to her friend and hugs his neck from behind in an attempt to comfort him.

"I don't know what to say Tracer…" Winston glumly stated. "I know for certain there was only ever one device… One built. I was there…"

He moves up, making the woman let go of him, as he reaches towards the desk and grabs the device into his hands. He gets up from his seat and walks down the stairs with his friend in tow. Reaching the ground floor, he goes up to one of his many workbenches and sets the device on top of it, before taking a seat on a stool. Tracer stands opposite of him, leaning on the table.

"So," says Winston, looking up to Tracer with an apprehensive look on his face. "What do you want to do with this?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, confused by what he meant by that.

"We could use it; Help carry out our operations faster and more effectively, especially with our limited resources and capabilities," Winston responded. "Or… We could destroy it. Ensure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

"Destroy it?!" Tracer exclaimed, surprised at her friend's suggestion. "Is that really necessary?"

"It's not like there was a working model for this to fall back on, Lena," Winston responded, firmly inserting the use of Tracer's actual name.

"Well, this model could be different. This could help Overwatch, give us the ability to help the world!"

"We don't know if this will even work!"

"We won't until we try!" Lena countered, her voice rising because of irritation until she composed herself and took a lighter tone. "C'mon big guy… If you found a way to keep me from being a poltergeist, then this should be easy-peasy!"

Winston looked up at her, seeing the warm smile she was sporting. All the worry and anxiety that plagued him since landing his eyes on the device were starting to fade when presented with such a thing. He gave a faint smile at the sight and sighed.

"Well, 'Imagination is the essence of discovery', as I always say," Winston iterated, smirking. "Besides, with our state, we could use any resources we could get."

"Yay!" yelled the young woman, as she blinked up to Winston and gave him a bear hug, making a hearty laugh resonate from the scientist.

They shared their sweet moment together, taking in the genuine feeling of content for life. However, Winston's laugh slowly dies down as he opens his eyes and sees a faint blue glow. Lena notices and opens her eyes as well, looking down and gasping in surprise as she lets go of her furry friend. They both stare at the table and look down at the source, casting their eyes upon the device as it illuminated of its own volition. Tracer and Winston look at each other with worry, unsure how the device even activated. Winston quickly jumps up to the deck and returns with a device in his hand. Pressing on the top, he throws it down towards the table, soon encompassing the table and the area surrounding it in a barrier of blue energy.

"Do you think that will hold?" she asked, already tensing up as she watches.

"I don't know…" Winston responded, honestly. "We should at least get out of the room and tell the others. Athena! Get on comms and-"

The room was flooded with a blue, deafening light before he could finish.


	4. Visitations

Mojave Drive-In, Mojave Wasteland

2285

"Retribution!" roared a man in crimson football gear as he charged forward, machete in hand before a red mist appeared above his head and his body fell limp to the dirt.

The Courier could feel the bright, merciless sun bearing down on his dark duster and metal helmet as he clung to the cover provided by the satellite hull, what little it could provide anyway. He could only listen for the Legion, unsure of whether to test his luck and return fire or be picked off by a sniper round to the skull. He was dealing with Legion, however, and they weren't exactly stellar shots.

Holding a grenade in the palm of his right hand and holding his rifle by the shroud in his left, he thumbs the grenade ring and motions toward Cooper, who is kneeling on the ground.

"Sick 'em," he mumbles to the dog, whose ears perk up at the command.

Almost immediately, Cooper charges from cover and towards the Legionaries as the Courier rises from cover and chucks a grenade towards the rubble before he shoulders his rifle and chambers a round, resonating a satisfying noise of metal slamming into metal. An explosion rocks the area as screams echoed from the rubble. The Courier aims through the scope and quickly spots two approaching men wielding spears and guns, quickly dispatching them with two shots each into their chests. The football gear doing little to stop the rounds. He then spots another assassin to his right firing an Assault Carbine at him. Ducking slightly, he levels his rifle and fires off two round, severing his right knee and dropping him to the ground on his back. Then, Cooper rams into the man and wraps his jaws around his throat, shaking him violently as he screams and claws at the dog's neck. The man in the duster then turns and fires shots at the rubble before he is forced down by rifle and machine gun fire from the rusted hull of a car not too far away.

'They're not usually this numerous _,_ ' the Legion target notes, observing how this assassin party was significantly larger than others sent in the past. 'Must be getting desperate _._ '

Grabbing a grenade from his pack with his left hand and waiting for their fire to die down even for a moment, he rolls from cover and fires rapid shots at the car, forcing the assassins to take cover as he throws a primed grenade at them and dives to the car on the other side.

An explosion rocked the other side as dirt and body parts were sent flying over, kicked-up dust enveloping the Courier's form. He stays crouched beside the hull for a couple of moments and rises swiftly with his rifle aimed at the horizon, scanning for any other signs of hostile life. It almost seemed clear, but his head snapped to his back as he heard thumping footsteps.

Rolling to the side as a giant metal mass slams into where he was, he looks back to see a Legionary wielding a giant hammer, supported by an advanced system of hydraulics and pulleys: A Super Sledge. The brute is also wearing a large panel, what seems to be some type of shield decorated with the banner of the Legion, a yellow bull atop a red background. The man charges, and the Courier fires off shots that bounce harmlessly off the shield until it smashes into him, knocking him into the satellite and knocking his rifle out of his hands - now dangling by a strap. The Courier kicks the Legionary in the shin to offset his balance and sends a right hook to his masked face through an opening between the hammer and shield. The sudden and notably strong punch staggers him but he quickly regains composure and swings his hammer towards his enemy. The hammer, instead of crushing the Courier, smashes into the console of the Big Mountain satellite. The sudden burst of electricity shoots through the metal weapon and forces the Legionary to let go and drop the hammer. As the shock distracted him, Cooper comes from behind and sinks his canines into his left leg, staggering his balance. It wasn't long until he bashed the side of his shield against the dog, forcing the dog off his leg with a yelp. Suddenly, the Legionary screams and his body flays out as four shots ring out in the air behind him, the crimson on his back becoming darker and wetter around four new wounds. His body collapses to the ground and the Courier slowly approaches the body, keeping the muzzle of his .45 leveled with the corpse, before finally lowering it and releasing his finger from the trigger. Hearing loud crackling and electricity fizzle, he looks to his left and sees the console of the satellite, mangled and broken in by both a spear and a giant hammer. He goes up to the console to further examine the damage, Cooper joining suit at his side. A couple of sparks cause him to hold up his left arm to shield him. He didn't have the time to fix it up, and there wasn't a real need to. At least, for now.

Getting up to leave, he pulls up his Pip-Boy to check the map and see how long a journey to the bounty collector will take.

"Retribution!"

He lowers his Pip-Boy and looks towards the sky, grumbling.

"Always one asshole left," he mutters to himself, readying his rifle and preparing to unload half a magazine into whoever was left.

Instead, he sees a black and green blur land next to him. A plasma grenade.

"Cooper, run!" he orders his dog as he attempts to bolt from the grenade.

However, he trips and falls flat on his helmeted face as something grabs at his foot as he tried to run to cover. Surprised, he looks back to see the hammer Legionary, barely alive as he had his bloodied hand wrapped around his target's boot.

"Time to die..." the Legionary rasped out, the sound muffled by blood.

Seeing running was no longer an option and the grenade was mere seconds from detonating, the Courier's hand shot out behind him, wrapping around the handle of a device. A device that sparked with electricity as if it was a Tesla ball. He brought it to the front and raised it in the air before his finger clamped down on the trigger. He disappeared in a bright bolt of blue light, and not even a millisecond later, the grenade detonated into a plume of green plasma.

* * *

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean Sea, Europe

2076

Lena and Winston were being showered in a bright blue glow as they witnessed the ball of crackling energy before them become bigger and bigger with every second. Winston, being the scientist he is, concluded that it would be in their best interest to get the hell out of the room as fast as they could before they find out what happens from a "Chronal Shockwave".

"Do you think that will hold?" Lena asked, her feet becoming jittery.

"I don't know…" Winston responded, feeling his heart thump loudly in his chest. "We should at least get out of the room and tell the others. Athena! Get on comms and-"

Before he could finish his order, the ball of raw energy caved in on itself and erupted into a shockwave that raced through the air in every direction. Papers, chairs, tables, equipment, and people were thrown around the room, making the already unkempt abode even more so. The two friends were flung against the wall with great force, knocking the wind out of them both. The room grew dim as the lights and electronics fizzled into silence as if an EMP went off. Then, as chaotically as it began, the room became silent save for the moans and groans of the two affected in the blast.

Writhing in pain, Oxton was the first to try and prop herself up. After gaining some semblance of balance, she went over to her furry friend and tried her best to give him some support. Winston scoured the floor for his glasses until he finally found the pair and placed them on his face, opening his dazed eyes. He wondered for a moment why the lights were out until recognition grew on his face and his eyes widened.

"Athena," he murmured, before letting go of Tracer and jumping up to the deck and to his computer. Then, stopping and waiting when he realized he couldn't do much without power. "Athena?"

He held his breath for those few silent moments until the room's lights slowly flickered back and Athena popped back up on the monitor with her signature tune. He felt relieved, as did Lena, who was looking up at the deck in suspense.

"Rebooting systems…" said the AI. "Defragmenting Caches… Systems Check Complete. All systems nominal, Winston"

"That's good to hear," said the relieved scientist. "Now, I think you should inform the others and show me any sca-"

"I'm sorry, Winston, but I am detecting an unidentified life-form within the facility."

Winston's eyes widened at the news.

"Where?"

"Right in front of me," he heard his friend call from behind.

Quickly looking over and barreling towards the rail, he overlooks the lower floor and sees Lena facing some brown lump on the floor where the device exploded. The "lump" slowly began to move, until it sat upright and started to stand up, albeit unsteadily. It now revealed its helmeted head, which was shiny and had a brown and silver color scheme with equipment welded to its right temple. Winston saw his left arm exposed, dangling to the side with some type of huge bracelet attached to it. This man had his back turned to them, and almost seemed confused in where he was. The room was deftly silent until someone decided to break it.

"Um… Hiya-!"

Almost instantly, the man spun and pointed a silver handgun with his right arm in the direction he heard the noise come from; now cradling his stomach with the other arm.

The Brit seized up before a hulking mass in white armor flew over her and towards the figure at breakneck speeds. The man with the gun notices the huge shadow and looks up, before trying to dive out of the way. He almost succeeds, but the force of the creature crashing down knocks him further back, tumbling towards a table and some lab equipment. Dazed from knocking over some gadgets, the man in the coat quickly gets back on his feet and tries to level his handgun towards the threat. The sight of a large fist coming down didn't permit him to, and he swiftly rolled to the side as the fist crashed down onto the black floor.

Gaining some distance, he faces the threat and finally has a good look on who he's fighting. His eyes widen in surprise under the helmet from what he saw, or at least he thought he saw.

' _A... gorilla?'_ the Courier thought to himself, in disbelief. ' _And what the hell is it wearing?'_

Before him was indeed a large ape, something he'd only ever seen in pre-war textbooks. However, he didn't remember reading anything about gorillas wearing white armor and having red electrical sparks around their face. At least he knew it was pissed off. Not wanting to be crushed to death, he levels his gun towards the creature and pops off rounds in quick succession at it. The gorilla brings ups its arms to shield itself as the rounds bounce off. As the man fired off the last round and slide locks back, he quickly ejects the empty mag and tries to insert a fresh one until a blue flash quickly fills his vision and pushes him slightly.

"I don't think so!" a woman's voice exclaimed, in a foreign but familiar accent.

Blinking, he is shocked to see that his gun wasn't in his hand anymore, seemingly disappearing in that blue flash.

A roar catches his attention, and he looks forward to seeing the sparking charging towards him and raising both his arms to pound him into the ground. The coated figure quickly dives out of the way a second time and unslings his Brush Gun in the process. With the gorilla behind him, he spins around and slams the stock of his rifle into its head, dazing it as it clutches its face with one of its hands. Spotting an opportunity, he quickly levels his game rifle and aims for the head of the creature. Not even able to fire off a shot, there's another flash of blue as the rifle in his hands disappear. Large hands barely gave him time to react as he is slammed against the wall with immense force, the shock of it sending tremors through his body. He sees the animal's face, snarling, and inches from his as he's being choked. Struggling, he claws at his hands with his left hand, while rummaging his belt with his right.

"Who sent you?!" it bellowed, surprising the man but not distracting him from his task. "Are you working for Talon?!"

Ignoring his question, his hand wraps around a cylinder on his belt and thumbs a ring. He slowly brings up the flashbang to the animal's face, whose eyes widen in shock as he pulls on the ring and lets the spoon pop off.

"Fuck off," he mutters under strangled breath.

In a bright flash, the animal becomes disoriented and stumbles around the room, haphazardly knocking tables and equipment about. The man lands on his feet, unaffected thanks to his riot helmet. Grabbing his Carbine that is slung around him, he was about to unload an entire magazine into the beast until that pestering blue flash appeared again. This time, however, the gun stayed in his hands as the sling tightened with tension. He now felt a different set of hands on his rifle, alarmed and confused to see a woman grappling onto the shroud. She had light skin, had brown spiky hair, and was much shorter than him. She also had this strange glowing chest-piece, which gave him the idea that she was responsible for those blue flashes.

He kicks the woman away and knocks her to the ground. He points his rifle at her, but she disappears in another bright blue flash before he could even get his finger onto the trigger.

 _'How the fuck?!_ ' the Waster thinks to himself.

Then, a flash sets off behind him and arms wrap around his throat and legs around his waist, trying to overpower him. He grabs at the arms and tries to uphold his balance. The woman wouldn't budge, so he opts for backing himself into a wall and slamming her body into it as hard as he could. Subsequently, she lets out a cry of pain and loosens her grip a bit. He slams himself into the wall two more times, feeling her grip get slightly weaker and giving himself more leverage. He tries to do it a third time, but the woman disappears in the bright flash and he just slams himself into the wall and hurts himself. She then reappears in front of him and delivers a swing with a stray wrench to the left side of his helmeted head, before supplementing that with another to his right. He stumbles from the force of the blow rather than the pain and leans against a nearby table. The quick woman was about to deliver a blow to the back of his head until he swiftly delved out of the way, only making her hit the tabletop, instead. She turned to watch as he delivered his right fist unto her face. Nearly getting knocked out from the energy of that one punch alone, she faltered and grabbed a screwdriver before he followed up by grabbing her throat and hurling her smaller frame towards the wall.

Oxton slumped against the wall, clutching her head before her eyes widened as the man forcefully holds her against the wall. Out of desperation, she jabs the screwdriver into the man's shoulder and eliciting a pained yell beneath the mask. He retaliates by deliberately jamming an armored knee into her stomach, just below the center of her glowing chest piece. She lets out a pained cry, as the force of his knee reverberates throughout her chest and knocks the wind out of her, making her clutch her torso as she collapses against the floor.

Breathing heavily, the masked man takes a step back from the writhing woman and looks around at his unfamiliar surroundings. Everything was a mess and he didn't want to stick around any longer. That's when he noticed his shirt feel damp around his shoulder and looked to see the screwdriver she had graciously shoved into him.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, as his hand wrapped around the handle. "Gotta get the hell out of here…"

He turned around and makes his way to a large doorway to be greeted by a clear night sky. The Courier was about to sprint off in a random direction until he felt a sharp tinge of pain appear at the side of his neck. Grunting in surprise, he quickly brings his hand up to his neck and pulls out a syringe. It was black and had golden substance within it, most of it gone now. Crushing the vial in his palm, he looks to his right to find the perpetrator and sees an… Angel? Before him was a blonde woman in white armor, with what appeared to be metallic wings protruding from her back. She had some kind of dart gun in her hands as she was backing away slowly.

"Now, Reinhardt!" she yelled, in a foreign accent, as well.

"What?"

He turns around to see a huge fist fill his vision and knock him back, flying through the air and slamming into the rocky surface of the wall behind him, before ungracefully crumpling to the hard floor. A wave of pain echoes throughout his body, tensing his muscles before they slowly start to go numb. The sedatives were beginning to take effect. Turning his back on the floor, he sees the blonde woman standing over him with the dart gun at the ready and a giant of a man with hulking muscles and a gray mane of hair come beside her. The Courier tries to raise his arms but the man forces them down and against his chest with one arm. He resists, but his blurry vision betrays him as his eyes shut and bring him into blackness.


	5. Questions

Mojave Drive-In, Mojave Wasteland

2285

Cooper wasn't sure what happened. He remembers fighting alongside his master, ripping out a few throats, and chomping on one Legionary's leg as his master finished him off. Then, after he got up, one of those strange balls landed near him and his master yelled for him to get away. He heeded his friend but still got thrown about by a concussive force that knocked him out for some time.

Lying dazed on the ground, the dog tries to get on all fours and begins to look around for his friend. Cooper is surprised to see he doesn't see him anywhere, not even near the satellite they originally took cover by. He barks to try to call out to him but after being met with just silence, he scampers over to the site where the explosion originated. The only things left were the burnt-up hull of the satellite and the mangled, plasma ravaged corpse of a Legionary. Sniffing and pawing at the ground, he couldn't find his friend anywhere and starts to get worried, whimpering at the thought of being alone. His ears perk as he hears footsteps behind him.

Cooper spins around and sees a Decanus, wielding an entrenching tool and mere feet away from him. The canine rears back, ears pinned against his head as he snarls and bares his teeth. The Decanus wasn't deterred as he slowly came closer, at the ready with the shovel. Having enough of the man, Cooper charges at him and tries to go after his throat. The Legionary was a bit faster, however, as he sidestepped his pounce and smacked him in the back of the head with the spade. The dog went out cold with a yelp and lay unconscious on the ground. Two other Legionaries come up from behind him, their heads swiveling, still wary of any remaining threats.

" _Mongrel_ ," the Decanus spat out, seething. He looks up from the dog and around the site where the plasma grenade detonated, with nothing but Legion and Raider corpses in view. "Where is that  _Profligate_?"

"No idea, sir," said one of the Legionaries. "I only saw him fall down before the grenade exploded, but I don't see his body anywhere."

The Decanus grumbled at this, so close to killing the Courier but not having a body to confirm his death. No matter how many assassins were sent to him, the profligate was always one step ahead. He'll pay, soon enough.

"We've no reason to stay here, then," the squad declared, sheathing his entrenching tool. "We must leave and head back to camp, and send a message to inform the Centurion of the profligate's disappearance."

"What about the mongrel, sir?" asked the Legionary, referring to the unconscious dog in front of them.

"Tie it up and carry it. When we get back to camp, we'll make the decision of turning him into a war-hound, or food."

"Yes, sir," the Legionary responded, as he pulled out a rope from his pack.

With the dog tied and slung over the Legionary's shoulders, the Decanus and the remainder of his contubernium headed East to their camp. The Mojave sun setting behind them as they crossed the mountains.

* * *

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean Sea, Europe

2076

The Courier's eyes slowly open, his vision blurry and trying to adjust to the surrounding lights. A pained groan escapes him as he tries to sit up and immediately feels stinging on the left side of his body. He clutches his shoulder with his right arm, feeling through his shirt to try and numb the pain on his flesh. Then, the man's eyes shoot wide open upon the realization that he only had his clothes on him and was lacking the armor and duster. No longer noticing any sensation of pain, he scrambles to sit up on the bed and starts to look down over his body. He was in a gray, short-sleeved shirt with a circular symbol on the sleeves, but still had his dark, worn jeans, and brown boots. His backpack, armor, gear, and weapons were nowhere to be seen. However, he still had his Pip-Boy, once again proving how stubborn it was. At least the sight of that luxury put his mind at ease, but only a bit.

After giving his Pip-Boy a quick once over and seeing it was operational, he looked around his surroundings to discern where he was. He seemed to be in a cell, but not like any cell he's ever seen before. First, it was clean. The walls seemed to comprise of some sort of concrete, but they weren't in a horrendous state of disrepair and decay like he's always seen. The bed he was on actually looked welcoming despite being a simple cot with a blanket and pillow. There was a mirror, sink, and toilet in the corner of the cell and they seemed to be in good condition as well. The toilet, especially, as it looked like it hasn't been continuously shat in for a well over a century. Now looking out from his cell, he sees that the barrier was not a set of rusty metals bars. Instead, it seemed to be a wall of some type of glass keeping him in, perforated with some holes but without any latch or handle of some kind. Getting off the bed and walking up to it, he puts his palm onto the surface, noting how it felt like plexiglass but much tougher. Giving it a good push and a few pounds with his fist, he knows this can't easily be broken and doesn't push further.

The prisoner could only give an exasperated sigh at his dilemma. Currently, he was being held prisoner by strange "people" and had no idea where he was even teleported to. He was practically defenseless and naked,  _again_ , and his fate was now in the hands of someone else…  _Again_.

The Waster looks back towards the sink and walks to it. Reaching it, he turns both knobs and the faucet starts to run. To his surprise, he can feel hot water trickle out in a steady stream. It brought him some comfort as he cupped a good amount in his palm before splashing it onto his face. Starting to wash away dirt, dust, grime, and blood off his weathered mug. After a good scrubbing, he twisted the hot water off and collected cold water into his hands. It looked clean, so he brought it to his lips and took a refreshing gulp of water. Parching the cracking dryness forming in his throat. After swishing the last gulp of water around his mouth and spitting it out, he turned the faucet off and let his face hung there, as droplets dripped into the quiet bowl below them. He looked up and met his own eyes in the mirror.

With auburn eyes, he looked over the tired expression on his face. In the mirror, he saw his short black hair, disheveled and unkempt, with a rough beard that was also short and unkempt, but at least it clung to tightly his face and didn't grow to the lengths of a lumberjack. On his forehead was a circular scar, just below the hairline and barely noticeable. Another, longer and wider scar ran from under his left eye, through his lips, and down to the tip of his chin. His face was well-off in comparison to the rest of his body. All sorts of wounds and injuries marked his skin, from scars to gashes to bullet holes. Hell, even his arms had their fair share of tissue damage, and it showed. There was only so much you could with disinfectant and Stims.

Then, at the thought of medicine, memories of being stabbed from earlier appeared in his head. Lifting his hand to the collar of his new shirt, he examines the side of his shoulder where he felt the screwdriver pierce his flesh. Much to his surprise, he couldn't find a new scar among the others. Even running his fingers over the affected area couldn't give any indication of damage. Surprising, as he was sure the tool went all the way in, up to the handle.

'The hell?' he thought to himself, tenderly rubbing his skin. 'Either that implant in me is working much faster than before, or an Auto-Doc patched me up…'

He was sure  _most_ Auto-Docs weren't this capable.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he walked back to the bed and sat back down. Now facing the outside of his new cell, he looked through the transparent glass and was greeted by the wall of what he presumed to be a hallway that led right and left. There was also what appeared to be a camera, mounted high onto the wall and its lens pointed directly towards his cell.

'Nice…' he remarked at the lack of privacy.

He then realized that the hallway going in both directions, as well as a camera that swiveled in place, probably meant he was in some type of cell-block and that his cell was one of many. So, after some hesitation, he called out into the hallway.

"Hello?" he yelled through the glass. "Anyone there?"

An echo of his voice and the following silence was his answer.

'Well shit,' he thought. 'Either I'm the only prisoner here or the others are long gone…'

Realizing he couldn't do anything now, he looked back to his Pip-Boy and flipped it to the data section. He was hoping it would be able to pick up any data or signals, give him any indication of where he could be. Flipping to the "World Map" section, his eyebrows furrowed when he only saw the words "Establishing Connection" followed by an ellipsis. That's never happened before. It always gave a detailed map practically instantly. Was the GPS module damaged? Did he lose connection with one of the satellites? Was there an interference? Fortunately, his worries were subsided when the words "Connection Established" blinked on the screen and flashed to the image of a map of the surrounding area. He felt relieved as he looked at the screen to get an idea of where he was. His relief quickly morphed to confusion as he looked at the upper-left corner of the screen to see where he was. The name of the location was unfamiliar at first, but memories from a pre-war book about geography flashed in his mind.

" _Gibraltar?!"_  he exclaimed in surprise, the word echoing throughout the hallway.

* * *

Dr. Ziegler was briskly walking through the halls of the Watchpoint, her heels clopping against the hard floor with each step. She was still donning her Valkyrie suit minus the wings, as she had recently come from the med-bay where she treated everyone that was hurt in the "incident". Thankfully, her friends' injuries were minor and mainly consisted of some bruising and maybe a minor fracture, but that wasn't why she was holding a holopad at her side. It didn't have reports of her friends' conditions; instead, it had a medical after-report on their uninvited guest.

The Doctor wasn't sure what to think of this man with the mask or the story Lena gave her about him. He apparently "appeared" into Winston's lab in a bright blue flash, attacked them and was surprisingly able to hold his own. Due to his mask, she thought he was some sort of Talon agent sent in to infiltrate the Watchpoint, but she was sure Talon wasn't capable of appearing out of nowhere in a flash. At least, she hoped…

Despite the wishes of her friends, she had decided to at least tend the man's wounds and draw some tests on him. After he was transported to the cell-block and the tests were processed, the information she gathered was rather… Interesting. She at least wanted to meet up with Winston to discuss her findings before telling the others. He may or may not be able to help provide further insight on this mysterious stranger, but it was worth a shot.

Going through the large doorway into Winston's lab/room, Angela immediately saw Winston and McCree gathered around a table, examining something. She walked up to them, holopad in hand, before clearing her throat to announce her presence. Winston and McCree both turn around and greet the doctor, who then returns the gesture. She moves up to the table and sees what they are examining: an assortment of weapons, gear, armor, supplies, and food. Even some bags with what appeared to be metal bottle caps spilling out of them were on the table. All of it belonging to the stranger.

"What are you two doing?" she asks, curiosity present in her tone.

"Taking a gander at this guy's stuff," the Cowboy said, holding a black rifle that looked like it belonged in a museum... Or a Hollywood set. "He's got one hell of an arsenal for one man... And pretty interestin' choices."

Winston adjusted his glasses before speaking. "Yes, I called Jesse here to help me identify this man's weapons, as some of them are rather… Ancient."

Upon hearing this, Angela herself looked down upon the firearms on the table and saw that Winston was right. Even with her Swiss background, she was largely unfamiliar with the weapons before her but knew they were rather antiquated designs. Even the rifle with the tiger camouflage was a rather old design, long since phased out by newer models. They still could be lethal, no doubt, but nothing a supposed Talon operative would use. Her attention then drifted to a bulky metal glove that had two cylinders atop it. Picking it up and noticing how this fist dwarfed her slender arms, wondering what it did as a weapon.

"Might wanna put that down," Jesse suggested, pointing his thumb behind him to a pile of scrap that looked like an assembly kit for a training bot. "Tested that thing out and it packs quite a wallop. Ain't no 'Doomfist' but I sure as hell wouldn't want to get hit by it."

Heeding his advice and setting the fist down, she took in the sight of all the other things the man had on him. There was packaged food with brands she'd never seen, equipment and supplies that were both familiar and different, and a set of armor that looked like it been through a thousand battles. All of this only added to the mystery.

"Well," Dr. Ziegler started, turning to Winston. "Has this in any way help identify who this person is?"

"Uh, nope," Winston responded honestly. "What bewilders me is how this man has gear that is antiquated and outdated but even has equipment that, if Athena's scans are anything to go by, are pretty advanced even by today's standard. What about you? Have you discovered anything about our 'mystery man'?"

"Yes, I have," the Doctor said as she set her holopad onto the desk and brought up a set of images. "Athena, can you please project the image on my pad?"

"Of course, Dr. Ziegler," Athena complied, as an image of what seemed to be an x-ray appeared before the three. It was a scan of the man's entire body, showing his skeleton, organs, and nerves. Jesse and Winston noticed some oddities about the scan, Angela seeing their expression. She then started to explain. "Before I began operating on him and tended to his wounds, I conducted a full-body scan on him to help me locate any other injuries and wounds he possibly sustained. I did not just find that, however."

She made the projection zoom in on the man's torso, bringing to detail some odd shapes that seemed to be embedded deep within his arms and chest. His heart even looked different. They didn't look to be organic, they looked like machines.

"Are those… Implants?" asked Winston, adjusting his glasses to get a better view.

"Yes," Dr. Ziegler confirmed. "They are not like anything I have ever seen, but they are also quite advanced from my understanding."

Angela then focused the image and showed more implants embedded into the man's legs.

"Any idea what they do?" McCree asked.

"I could only guess they have something to do with his strength and stamina, but why he would have so many is beyond me," she answered as best she could. "But of all the things I found, this is probably the most… Concerning."

She adjusted the image so that it would only show the man's head. Angela then produced three more images, showing the sides of his head from both the front and the sides. The frontal image zoomed in onto the brain, giving her audience the view of a very prominent wound.

"The hell? Are those bullet wounds?" the Gunslinger exclaimed as he eyed the damage. "Didn't know Lena landed a couple on him!"

"She didn't," the Doctor clarified. "Scans showed the trauma has been there for some time and is the result of ballistic weaponry. Also, it's indicated that he was shot  _twice_  in the head!"

The man in the hat shook his head and gave out a long whistle as Winston further adjusted his glasses with a look of befuddlement.

"Surely, this would mean he should be dead, right?" the Scientist questioned.

"Yes. Strong enough trauma to the Cerebrum can potentially be fatal, but there is always the chance of survival; Albeit, a very  _small_ chance. If that wasn't enough, however…"

The Doctor manipulated one of the side images to enlarge and zoom in at the base of the skull, right where the brain stem was. She then enhanced the section where the skull and brain were near each other. McCree and Winston weren't sure what they were looking at as they weren't physicians, so Angela then highlighted a little spot on the brainstem where a small line was located. It took them a couple of seconds before Winston's eyes widened at the realization.

"Wait, was his brainstem… Severed?!" he asked aloud, eyes wide. "But- H-how?!"

"I have no clue," Dr. Ziegler honestly answered. "If anything, and when he's conscious and capable of speaking, I plan on asking him many questions."

The Doctor and Scientist exchanged looks, unsure what to think of this stranger. So many questions and mysteries had just formed around one man in the span of less than a day. Two questions were the most prevalent in their minds: Who was he and where did he come from? They might have a  _long_  interrogation session ahead of them.

"Uh, Doc?" Jesse said, holding a small bag and peering inside with a disgusted look.

"Yes, McCree?" Angela responded, wondering what was wrong. "What is it?"

"That brain trauma could've made him…  _Crazy_ , could it?"

"Not crazy per se, but it could've had an effect his mental state. Why?"

With only a look of worry and disgust, he dumped the bag's contents onto the table. Angela and Winston's eyes widened in shock as 3 severed fingers and what appeared to be an ear fell onto the table. They all looked like they were in there for some time, with the ear being the "freshest" of them all.

" _Mein Gott!"_

"Uh-Oh… Oh God…"

Angela had her hands over her mouth in alarm, and Winston quickly left the table in search of a trashcan as he blocked his mouth with one hand. The Doctor never got used to the smell of blood or severed limbs for that matter, but it quickly reminded her of something she did earlier.

"Athena!" she called to the ceiling.

"Yes, Doctor Ziegler?" answered Athena over the intercom.

"Have you finally processed the DNA sample from our 'guest' and searched through all available government databases that we still have access to?"

"Yes, doctor."

"And what were the results?" she asked, hoping to at least have something to know this very strange man by. The man with the assortment of implants. The man with the bizarre brain anomalies. The man whose body was  _riddled_  with scars. McCree was also attentively listening, just as eager to learn any truth to this mystery. Anything, to give a hint or a clue.

"No results or matches found."


	6. Answers

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe

2076

A brunette woman in a white tank top and red work pants was walking down a rarely used hallway of the Watchpoint, one she did not really want to be in, considering who else was occupying the block. Someone had to be tasked with bringing the prisoner a tray of food, and of course, it had to be her to carry it out. She was one of the few non-agents to answer the call to Overwatch. Well, she "answered" at the behest of her traveling friend, Reinhardt; Mainly doing menial tasks and ensuring the base was in tiptop condition with her mechanic skills. It wasn't an easy job by any measure, but she signed up to serve a purpose and contribute something to the world. She didn't always enjoy taking risks, however, such as delivering food to the man who appeared out of nowhere and attacked her colleagues/friends.

Unfortunately, Reinhardt couldn't accompany her and escort her to the cell, as he was called in for a meeting with Winston and Angela for some reason. She did have Lena with her, taking the lead and guiding the mechanic through the hallway. Even though the chances of the man getting out of the cell and causing trouble were slim, she was at least comforted by the thought of an agent with her, in case the need arose.

"Nothing to worry about, Brigitte," the bubbly woman said to subside her worries. "Everything should be peachy as long as I'm here."

"Thanks for coming along, Lena," Brigitte gratefully replied. "Are you okay doing this, though? It hasn't been long since you've... Well... Fought him and got hurt. And I doubt he would forget so soon."

Lena merely glanced over her shoulder at Brigitte, before directing her gaze onwards. She wasn't scared of him, but damn well knew that he was capable of inflicting pain. The bruising and numbing pain on her chest was proof of that. So, it was best to be wary.

After a short amount of time, they reached the outside of the man's cell, and Lena decided to hang back and stay out of sight of his view but still be close by in case things went awry. Giving a courteous nod to her, Brigitte takes in a deep breath. Readying herself, she stepped forward and faced the inside of the cell, and flinched in surprise.

The man was in his cell but was leaning upright against the wall adjacent to the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He was a foot or two away from where the door was and was looking directly at the woman in the tank top. Brigitte stood there, not expecting him to be standing up against the glass, before collecting herself and clearing her throat.

"Uh, food's here," she stated as she looked over the man's form.

'Wow, he's tall!' she thought to herself, noticing how the man probably had half-a-foot over her. 'And what's up with those scars?'

She bent down, still eyeing the man who also kept his eyes on her. Grabbing a knob located at the base of the door, she flipped it up and slowly slid the tray of food under and towards the man in the cell. When the tray finally became clear of the door, she swiftly retracted her arm and stood back up. The man only continued staring at her with a slight frown, glanced down at the food, and went back to staring at her with an eyebrow propped. After a few moments of silence, the mechanic decides it was the time to leave.

"Well, uh, bye!" she says as she turns back to the door.

"What's your name?" she hears the man ask, in a gruff and low voice.

Brigitte stepped back to the cell and still saw the man leaning onto the wall with that neutral stare.

"Uh, excuse me?" she asks, acting coy.

"Your name," he repeats, his tone ripe with growing frustration. "What is it?"

Brigitte's eyes swiveled to her left to Lena, who was intently listening to their conversation with her brow furrowed, most likely directed at the cell's occupant. Lena looked back at Brigitte and shrugged as she was unsure of what direction take. The taller woman decided to go along, for now.

"Uh, I'm Brigitte," she reluctantly answers. "I'm the mechanic here…"

"Hmm," the man let out. "Would that mean you would be able to talk to whoever's running this show?"

The mechanic wasn't sure what to make of that question, but she answered nonetheless. "Yeah, I guess… Why?"

The man's brows furrowed before he pushed himself off the wall and faced the woman in front of the glass. He began to explain, his voice lightly laden with aggression, "The reason 'why' is because I want you to tell them that if they decide to keep me locked in here like a rat, they should at least tell me why and who the hell they are. And no 'messenger-in-between bullshit' either. Face-to-face. Can I count on you to put in that request?"

'Great! I'm an errand boy for the prisoner now!' she wanted to yell but didn't due to present company. Still, her face scrunched up at the thought of letting him get closer to her friends and colleagues.

"I can try... but no promises," she muttered.

The man's harsh gaze softened a little as he bent down and picked up the tray, before turning his back to her and walking to the bed. "Thanks for the food."

A bit dumbstruck and standing there awkwardly for a couple of seconds, Brigitte swiftly left his cell and made her way back to the door. Lena soon joined her and it wasn't long when they finally exited out of the door from the cell block.

"So, Brig..." Lena began, giving the other woman an inquisitive look. "You going to do as he says? I'm not exactly eager to fill out his request."

Brigitte's face contorted, weighing the options in her head. Sure, this guy was scary and dangerous, but they dealt with him once, before. She was also sure they had their own questions to ask if that impromptu meeting Reinhardt and the others had was any indication.

"Might as well tell them," she said, shaking her head.

* * *

Angela Ziegler was walking through the halls as she made her way through the doors of the cell-block, a holopad in hand. Due to the nature of Watchpoint: Gibraltar, the cellblock was small in comparison to its counterparts and was only meant to be something of periodic use. So, she had no trouble finding and going through another set of doors that led to the interrogation rooms. Making her way to them, she sees McCree standing guard in front of one of the doors. He looked at her and greeted her with a tip of his hat.

"He's in there like you wanted," the man with the big revolver on his hip said, pointing his metal thumb back at the door. "Chained up and going nowhere. Holler if you need help, y'hear?"

McCree steps out of the way for Dr. Ziegler to go through. Before she does, she adjusts a holster situated onto her backside, making sure that it is at least covered by the piece of hanging cloth. She was wearing her Valkyrie suit minus the wings, halo, and sleeves. She hoped things would stay relatively peaceful, and originally objected to bringing her blaster and suit with her, thinking it could potentially sour trying to form some non-hostile relations with the man. She relented, however, due to her friends' concerns. At least McCree would be right outside the door if there was trouble.

Pressing a button on the panel, the door slides open and the room is revealed to her as she walks in. It is compact, with four white walls forming a square illuminated by a hanging lightbar. On one of the walls was a mirrored window, and she was certain Winston was on the other side. In the middle of the room was a metal table and two metal chairs, one of them already occupied. The stranger sat in the chair, his hands handcuffed to the table. He was leaning over the table, staring blankly at his hands, apparently unaware of the blonde in the room.

"Ahem," the doctor clears her throat, catching his attention, and causing him to sit upright in his chair and address her with a neutral look. The door closes behind the doctor as she sits down onto the opposing chair and sets her pad onto the table. She crosses her hands onto the table and addresses the man with a slight smile. "Good day. You requested to see me?"

The man's eyes look over the woman, before saying, "I wanted to see someone… So, yeah."

"Good," the blonde stated. "Because I wish to use this opportunity to discuss some things with you. To ask you questions me and my colleagues. I'm also aware you also have questions of your own, yes? That you wish to be answered?"

"Why else would I agree to be shackled here?" he said, holding up his hands for emphasis as his face curled into a slight frown.

"Well, I apologize for the 'precautionary measures' as my friends put it, but I'll be sure to be fair and equitable to you if you decide to answer any questions I have; and please, call me Dr. Ziegler."

"Zie-gler?" he muttered under his breath, mouthing the motion of uttering that name, seeing how it rolled off his tongue. "That's a… German name, is it?"

" _Ja_ ," Ziegler confirmed in German, a bit puzzled why he would ask such a question now. "Have you ever been to Germany?"

The Waster looks up and regards her with a tilt of confusion as he shakes his head.

"No, I haven't…" he says, Ziegler noting the odd behavior but decides to not speak up about it. There were more pressing matters to delve into anyway.

Adjusting her holopad so it could stand and taking out a stylus, she began writing onto it until she stopped and addressed the man once again.

"First things first," she said. "Who are you? What is your name?"

He opened his mouth to respond but choked up a bit. He was hesitant to say anything. Saying the wrong thing or revealing the wrong information could lead to consequences down the line. It taught him to not be careless when he ran his mouth off. However, his name wasn't exactly a secret. Sure, he was more associated with his calling than what was given to him at birth, but plenty of people knew his actual name. And revealing his identity probably would help him find his way back home easier. Probably.

"Nathan Brin," he answered, hoping revealing his name won't bite him in the ass later. "My name is Nathan Brin."

"Well Nathan, if I can call you that?"

He shrugged in indifference.

"Where are you from?"

"California."

"So, you're American?"

Nathan's head snapped to hearing that word. Why would she say that? America and basically all the Old World has been dead for 200 years. Something was off. From the colorful cast of characters he fought, the Pip-Boy telling him he was in Gibraltar, the strange technology, and architecture, unlike anything he's seen, to the "German" in front of him. Some ideas started to form in his head: Answers to where - and when - he was teleported to. He wanted to wait first, before coming to a conclusion. Especially one as improbable as that.

"Yeah… I guess," the Californian answered.

"How old are you?" the Doctor asked, Nathan still unsure if she genuinely cared about what he said or was just going through a list.

"40," he responded as he watched the blonde write more onto that "computer" of hers. Finishing, she looks up from her pad and exhales, as if readying herself for something.

"Now for the more important questions," she said, her tone becoming more serious. "Questions that we really must need an answer for if we are to… Decide what to do with you?"

"You're just going to shoot me in the head and bury me in a ditch somewhere, are ya'?"

That question visibly took Angela by surprise. Her eyes becoming wide as disks with how unexpected that question was.

"What?!" Dr. Ziegler exclaimed, shocked. "No! No! We would never do such a thing!"

Nathan just stared at her, with a stone expression.

"No, it's just… With how you 'appeared' in this base and how aggressive you acted, we had to take certain precautions."

"If I was such a huge pain to all of you, why am I still here? Why not drop me off somewhere and be done with me or finish me off in the beginning?"

"Well, with how you acted and fought, as well as the 'items' you had on you; some interest has sparked among me and my colleagues. We just wish to have a full picture before concluding. Make sense?" she puts on a feigned smile.

"The use of the words 'items' and 'interest' make this sound like some sort of exchange, am I wrong?"

Ziegler hesitated before answering that question. In a way, he wasn't wrong. Winston and even herself had developed a certain amount of interest in the technology he brought with him, thinking it could be of some benefit to newly reformed Overwatch. They just needed someone who was familiar with the tech and willing to cooperate. Maybe then, they could figure out what to do with him. Help him, if necessary. That could be their end of the bargain for him if the others agreed. In all honesty, she didn't like holding him prisoner and forcing him to bargain. It was... Too reminiscent of a by-gone era. One she wished to avoid in this "new Overwatch" if it had a chance at all.

"No," Dr. Ziegler stated. "You are not wrong. I promise, though, this exchange can be beneficial for both parties. We would acquire promising technology while you…"

"Get back home," Brin finished for her. "Back in one piece, I hope."

"Of course!" she agreed, more jovial than she was moments ago, though it seemed rather ill-fated. "Now, onto the decisive questions."

Angela brought up a page onto her pad, on it was a series of questions that she would no doubt be going over with Nathan. The more Nathan saw the doctor use that device the more he got intrigued. Another piece of strange tech he's never seen before, and something he wouldn't mind using for himself. Kind of reminded him of the older model Pip-Boys, but more translucent and colorful.

"First, where did you get all those weapons?" the blonde interrogator asked, waiting to jot down notes. "You have quite the arsenal for just one man."

"Found them," the rugged man simply answered.

"Seriously?" she asked, her brows furrowing.

"I didn't buy them or steal them... Mostly. I found them. You can find a lot of stuff when you wander or drift long enough. Same can be said for all the other things I had with me."

"I see… Next Question: Where did you learn how to fight? You were able to hold your own, surprisingly well."

"You pick up on it where I live. You learn to fight, growing up and wandering. Either through teachers or just trial and error. It just comes with experience."

"Where do you live in California that such a thing would be necessary?" a growing hint of concern being evident.

"The Mojave Wasteland."

"Do you mean 'desert'?"

"Maybe, if it wasn't  _nuked_  in the first place," Nathan making sure to emphasize that word, see if it could spark a reaction in the blonde. Judging from how her eyebrows rose and eyes widened, it did.

"Excuse me?" she questioned, confused by what he meant.

"Y'know… Nuked. With nuclear weaponry. 'Mutually Assured Destruction' and all that?"

"I'm sorry, but what nuclear war are you talking about? Do you mean the incident in Australia? I thought you were from California?"

"I am. From  _New_  California."

The woman only stared at him in bewilderment. What was he talking about? A nuclear war? A "New California"? Last time she checked, America was still in one piece and it was only the Australian Outback that ever became an irradiated wasteland, but through an Omnium blowing up not nuclear war. Just where did Nathan think he lived? Was he delusional? Insane? This certainly didn't make it easier to learn more about the man who appeared out of-

That's when a bizarre thought hit her.

"When you ended up here," the Doctor began trying to piece together an odd, and downright asinine conclusion. "My friends told me you appeared in a bright blue flash, am I correct?"

"Yeah," the Californian nonchalantly answered. "Got teleported here."

"How do you know you were teleported?" she kept asking, with skepticism ever present on her face.

"I was using a device that could do such a thing. I've used it before, but it happened to malfunction when I..." Nathan's face had a realization appear on it, as he recalled the moments leading up to that eventful teleport. "Was near a damaged satellite."

"And where did you think it sent you?" asked the doctor, bringing him back into the conversation.

"At first, I thought a different continent since I ended up in Gibraltar, somehow. Now? With all this strange technology and how you seem clueless about the 'Great War'... I think I'm on a different Earth."

There was nothing but silence between the two within the interrogation room. Angela thought she could even hear someone murmuring within the viewing room, behind the glass. The man opposite of her still sat there, a neutral gaze fixed on her and waiting for her response. After several awkward moments, Dr. Ziegler shifted in her seat as she recomposed herself.

Clearing her throat, the woman in white then says, "Let's assume that this is really what happened, as unfortunate and bizarre of a situation it is."

He stayed silent, gaze still fixated on her.

"What can you tell me about your home?" she began, unable to believe she was asking this question. "This 'other Earth' you are from?"

That neutral look now hardened slightly, shifting his gaze for a split-second before he let out an exasperated sigh and addressed the blonde Doctor, again.

"October 23, 2077," he stated getting ready to tell another long and bloody chapter in human history. "The day the world shot itself in the foot."


	7. Briefing

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe

2076

Winston and Reinhardt were in the viewing room looking through the glass as they observed Angela interrogating the man, now named as a "Nathan Brin". They had been there for at least an hour, Nathan currently droning on about a paramilitary organization from his world. Neither the Knight nor the Scientist could believe anything he was even saying. They listened intently, nonetheless, noticing the details that interested them the most.

"I really don't believe anything he's saying," said Winston shaking his head all the while. "But he is creative. I'll give him that."

"Is such a thing even possible?" asked the hulking man next to him, scratching his head. "This would be in your field of expertise, would it not?"

Winston regarded the old German, his face scrunching up the more he thought about it. Remembering the sleepless nights designing and building the teleportation matrix, and writing countless equations and running countless simulations to account for every possible scenario. The scenario of ending up in a different dimension was one of them, but one that had such a low percentage of even occurring that it was less than insignificant. That's what the math showed. However, if Lena's incident was any indication; There was still the chance.

"I don't know," the Scientist sorrowfully answered, closing as he rubbed them into his fingers. "But I refuse to accept that as the ultimate truth, at least right now. We'll just go along with it and if there's no other viable conclusion to draw by that time… We'll see."

Reinhardt only nodded, out of sympathy really, as he could tell his furry friend was torn by this. They both fell back into silence as they continued observing the exchange between Nathan and Angela. They noticed their conversation had also become quiet as the latter was now writing up some notes onto her holopad while Nathan intently watched her, his eyes drifting between the tablet and her. After finishing the last few notes, Dr. Ziegler stood up from her seat and addressed the Waster with a nod and a "thank you", before she made her way through the door and left the man alone in the room. As soon as she left, the man then started to mess around with the "computer" strapped to his forearm.

'Should've confiscated that from him,' Winston thought to himself as he curiously watched him operate what appeared to be buttons and dials. 'How on Earth does it even function?'

The sound of the door opening behind them turned both of their backs to the glass, as Angela stepped through with the holopad in her hands.

"Enjoyed the show?" she greeted with a question.

"You mean  _freakshow_ , right?" Winston cheekily responded. "I honestly don't know what to make of anything that man said."

"Agreed. If I didn't know any better, I would've written him off as being very delusional or schizophrenic, but that still doesn't explain the items he brought with him."

Reinhardt spoke up, saying, "Well, he certainly was quite detailed in his story and of the world he is from. An irradiated land filled with degenerates preying on the weak? Sounds like a place I would visit, bring some justice to the land!"

"I'm sure that would go over well," the blonde replied, rolling her eyes.

That ushered a deep chuckle from the gorilla next to him, amused by his friend's somewhat misplaced beaming pride.

"Well, if there are ever any dragons where he's from, I'm sure a Knight will be needed," he said. "Now, what's our next course of action?"

The group contemplated for a moment, trying to formulate a plan and decide what else to do with the man in the next room. Angela thought it would be best to call a base meeting and inform the rest of the agents as to what has happened. She knew they were all getting anxious about who exactly their visitor was. Relaying her suggestion to Reinhardt and Winston, they agreed it would be a good idea to not keep their colleagues in the dark any longer.

"Sounds like a plan!" boomed Reinhardt. "I'll get onto organizing the others into the conference room while the day is still young."

"I'll join you, too," Winston added. "I'll just tell McCree to escort, uhm, 'Brin' back to his cell. What about you, Dr. Ziegler?"

"I'll head to my office to set up everything and organize the notes we've all compiled on him," she answered. "I'll see you there!"

The Knight and Scientist left the Doctor alone in the viewing room, shutting the door behind them. Alone, Angela let out an exasperated sigh, the day becoming much more complicated than she expected it to be. It was barely noon! Taking another deep breath to calm down, she turns around to the glass and almost jumps to see Nathan staring at her. However, she becomes a bit more relaxed a few moments later when his eyes darted to other spots of the glass – showing that he couldn't see through. Then, the door opened and in came McCree, cigar in his mouth and hand on his holster as he approached the chained man. Released from the table, Nathan stood up and was escorted out of the room and towards his cell with McCree behind him. The door eventually closed, leaving a vacant interrogation room. Dr. Ziegler had to get ready for the impromptu meeting they'll soon have, and hoped it would go smoothly.

* * *

"You've got to be shitting me," drawled out McCree, sitting in one of the chairs situated around the conference room table.

Everyone on the base was currently occupying their own seats around the table. Lena, Jesse, Torbjörn, Hana, Reinhardt, and even Genji - who had returned from a trip to his homeland - were all encircling the black round table. Brigitte was there, too, sitting next to her Swedish Engineer Father.

When they were all summoned to this briefing they all knew it had something to do with the man-from-nowhere and hopefully clue them all in on who they were dealing with. After the impromptu presentation by Angela and Winston, everyone except Reinhardt was left practically speechless by the information they were given. Sure, some of them have had encounters of the strange and bizarre in their years of Overwatch, but this had to be one of the more asinine stories they've heard.

"Is this what they were discussin' in there, Reinhardt?" Jesse asked, looking at his bigger friend for some clarification.

"Yes, my friend," Reinhardt confirmed. "I was there to hear everything, catch every single detail. Although, Angela did leave out the 'Steel Brotherhood' part, which I thought was pretty interesting."

"'Brotherhood of Steel'," the interrogator corrected. "But yes, while inane as everything that man has told me sounds and that he has significant...  _Brain anomalies_  that could explain this behavior, he has not exhibited any other symptoms that could suggest any delusional disorders. It also, unfortunately, provides some explanation for his background and the technology he brought with him. "

The members of the table started to murmur and glance at each other. They all were still unsure of this Nathan Brin, and whether they could trust him. With all the problems and troubles the newly reformed Overwatch was being pelted with, having a prisoner was unfortunately added to the list.

"Why are we even keeping him here?" Torbjörn asked. "Why not just take the technology for ourselves and cut him out from the equation?"

"Then that would make us thieves, not heroes," Winston responded intensely, not liking what his fellow engineer just suggested. "It would also leave us with technology we would not understand and have to resort to meticulous and tedious reverse engineering before it could be of any use to anyone. Besides, if this exchange is going to work smoothly, we still have to uphold our end of the deal."

"And that is…?"

"Helping him get back home."

Torbjörn could only narrow his eyes at Winston, seeing how implausible that seemed.

"Hmph! And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Well, as you might've already guessed, teleportation technology also exists in his world," the gorilla-scientist stated. "He actually possessed quite a device in his pack, something capable of teleportation."

"'How do you know it even works? Have you even seen him use it?"

"If him appearing in the middle of my room in a bright blue light is any indication... It definitely would be something to examine."

If they were all honest with themselves, they didn't like this plan at all. The idea of having to cooperate with a stranger whose story is built upon what sounds like something from an old Twentieth Century movie was completely asinine. Not to mention, this exchange was built on rewards that promised really nothing for either side. No one was a definitive winner and made it seem all that pointless. Or so it seemed.

"Winston," Brigitte spoke up, her pseudo-boss regarding her. "Is this technology really worth all the trouble of having that guy here? We already have enough on our plates, as it is."

The Gorilla thought about her question and his expression changed but hardened as he thought about it. He breathed in deeply before huffing out, in apparent frustration.

"I'm not going to lie to you guys," he started as he addressed not only Brigitte but the rest of the team. "This 'new' Overwatch is in a very precarious position in the world today, and we are only but at a fraction of the capabilities of what this organization once possessed. If we are to increase our chances of survival, this might be the technology we need to utilize. It may not immediately bolster us to our former glory but could give us a fighting chance. Something we'll need if we're to go up against the likes of Talon."

Everyone fell silent as Winston finished, knowing that the Overwatch of today was nothing like the Overwatch in the past. Everyone signed up for a reason, because of how they saw the world and refused to just stand by and watch it collapse on itself. Even Hana, the newest member of the reformed Overwatch, knew why she joined the very group the world now considered "criminals". They were the ones after all that swooped in to help MEKA fend off that gargantuan Omnic plaguing her homeland, causing her to join in the first place. She wanted hope and chance to fight for a brighter future. If this was one risk the team had to take to ensure it…

"Fine," Torbjörn muttered, the bearded man still grumbling in disapproval. "If this can help Overwatch get back on its feet, it's better than nothing."

The dwarf got off his chair and made his way to the exit. "However, when you're off chasing science fiction, I'll be working on modern marvels in my workshop! Good luck!"

The Scientist could only help but smile at his engineer friend's quips, seeing that at least his work ethic hasn't waned all these years. "I guess that's it then. Nathan Brin will help us, and we will in return help him. Any objections?"

No one had really had an outright objection, just tons of questions. Mainly about the world Nathan Brin is supposedly from and whether they could see him or speak to him. They still didn't trust him and were going to be careful around him.

"Just so we're clear," McCree started. "You ain't just gonna let him roam around the base freely, right?"

Winston and Angela exchanged looks, before the former replied, "We're not sure… It'd be rather inconvenient to have someone escort him all the time with our limited numbers and such. However, Athena would keep him on 100% surveillance if he's active. We'll keep a close eye on him."

McCree only grunted in response, before rising from his seat and stretching his arms above his head.

"Welp," he said. "I'm gonna go hit the hay. Been a long day and I doubt it'll be the last, especially with him around. Good night, y'all."

With that McCree said his exchanges and made his way to the barracks, the other members of the team soon following suit. It wasn't long until the conference room was barren, with only the presenters left. Putting together back their notes.

"Well, that went better than I expected," Angela remarked as she looked over her holopad. "I wonder if introducing him to them would be a good idea. What do you think?"

"I think we should take this slow for now," Winston replied. "I have a feeling our new 'friend' will have a lot to get acclimated to. Best not to rush things. Good night, doctor."

And with that, the scientist was off to his lab/bedroom, to retire for the night.

* * *

Nathan was unfortunately back in his cell, lying down on the rather comfortable bed because he had nothing better to do. Well, he could try escaping from his cell and getting the hell out of the base but since his cell door couldn't be picked and there was still the problem of being on an entirely different Earth, he decided his best option would be just staying put. He still didn't know what to think of this "Overwatch" group but he was still largely unscathed, unlike the other times he's been taken as prisoner. There were probably the only ones that could help him get back home or his best chance. He just had to wait and see what they had in store for him. If it wasn't for his Pip-Boy's clock he wouldn't know it was already well into the night, otherwise, he would be sleeping. He still didn't like it, though, being caged up doing nothing. He was getting antsy. The wanderer felt like he had to get up and do something to at least take his mind off things.

The blonde, Dr. Ziegler has visited not so long ago, informing him that she had just debriefed the rest of Overwatch about him and have decided that they would cooperate with each other. Him in advising about his technology and them in getting him back home. She also said that all of them didn't really believe his story and to expect them to be more than suspicious about him. It didn't bother him in the slightest. He chuffed at the thought. He was still rather unsure what working with this Overwatch would ultimately entail.

'An international peacekeeping force _,_ ' he remembered the Doctor say, what they described themselves as. 'Sounds more like a mercenary group, to me _._ '

Still, there were some things he was worried about, like wondering where Cooper was and if he was okay. That dog was probably the closest thing to a friend he had left. He couldn't possibly be in this world as the Transportalponder could only transport the user. The thought of Cooper being scared and alone brought more discomfort to his owner. More than he needed.

Grumbling at the fact he was just staring at the ceiling for some time, he rolls over in bed and shuts his eyes. The self-inflicted darkness sort of puts his mind at ease, able to clear things a bit. It seemed to be working, as he soon was edging more into a trance. It was as if he was dreaming, but it was just a memory from long ago forced its way into his mind. He began to relive it vividly and was grimacing at the thought.

It was the first time the Legion sent assassins to him, in retaliation for killing Vulpes Inculta and his squad at Nipton. Nathan could not believe his eyes at the atrocities he saw, and if it wasn't for the grenade rifle he had on hand, he would've been strung up on a cross or worse. It came back to bite him in the ass when he was just wandering the Mojave sometime after, making his way towards Novac when he spotted crimson over the hill. He didn't even have time to prepare for battle when the assassins started firing at him. They were well-equipped, hardened veterans of the Legion, and he was just a lowly Courier at the time. He barely made it out with his life, where not even the use of a grenade rifle and that Eye-Bot he picked up tipping the odds in his favor. He ended up crawling to a desolate shack and using up all the healing powder on his seeping wounds. He stayed there for half a week, using up all his supplies. The next time he saw crimson, he just bolted for the nearest settlement.

Opening his eyes at the "nightmare" and frustrated, he rolled over onto his other side and faced the outside of his cell. He wasn't expecting to see a short Asian girl there staring at him through the glass.

Sitting up instantly, he regards the girl with a surprised look. The girl jumps, backing up a bit from the glass as her eyes widen, but quickly regains composure and looks at Nathan dead in the eye. The man glares back at her, a bit pissed that someone was watching him in his sleep. Hated having eyes on him. However, there was something about this girl that stood out to him, something that hasn't with the others he has seen. This one seemed young _._

"The hell do you want?" he derisively questions.

The kid wasn't having any of it.

"I dunno," she responds, shrugging her shoulders, and folding her arms in an effort at bravado.

'Great,' Nathan remarked in his head. 'She's a smartass _._ '

"Listen, kid," the forty-year-old began. "I-"

"Who are you calling a  _kid_?" the kid interrupted him, unknowingly proving his point.

"Well, because you watch people in their sleep, I assume you have the manners of one."

The girl huffed at him, before saying, "I wasn't 'watching you in your sleep'. I was just checking to see if you were still in your cell. Make sure you weren't causing trouble."

Nathan looked around the insides of his cell and raised his hands at the small, unassuming confines.

"Where else would I be?" the prisoner asks, more confusion that frustration in his tone. "Seriously kid, what's your angle?"

The pale-skinned girl only stood there, frowning as her eyes looked at him as if she was sizing him up.

"Wanted to see 'the Wastelander' with my own eyes..." she explains.

"And?"

"You don't look like much."

Hearing that, Brin shook his head and got off the bed, rising to his full height of Six-Foot-Six-Inches. She was a bit surprised by that, not thinking he was going to be that tall, but composed herself as he walked closer. It wasn't long until the muscled, broad-chested man was mere feet away from the slim, petite young woman. The Wastelander towered over her, looking down on her with a scrutinizing gaze. To her credit, the girl didn't budge, not fidgeting much. He doubted her bravado would be intact if there wasn't glass between them, though.

"What's your name?" the bearded man asked.

"DVa," she stated, matter-of-factly.

"That can't be your real name."

"As if I'll tell you my real name."

Nathan brought up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he growled out of frustration. He was going nowhere with this dumb kid and only felt like he was wasting his time.

"Listen...  _Kid_ ," the older man started, despite the protests of "DVa". "It's late, going to have a big fucking day tomorrow, and you're doing yourself no favors being here, especially with that attitude."

"You're not my dad," she remarked.

"No, but I was your age once, and if half of what Dr. Ziegler told me about this Overwatch group is true, then you are out-of-place."

"What makes you think that?"

"That type of attitude, that bravado... Cut the shit, kid. It'll do more harm than good."

The Courier emphasized his point by raising one of his hands, brandishing the scars riddled over the back.

DVa grimaced a bit at seeing the wound and began to note all the other scars that littered his arms. She even saw the long one on his face. Wondering what exactly he did to earn those.

"This isn't the Wasteland," DVa stated. "People aren't exactly scrounging around in ruins fighting over canned beans."

"That's a really gross oversimplification," Nathan rebutted. "But you don't need to be in a wasteland to piss off the wrong people."

The young woman opened her mouth to speak up but held back as she realized there was some truth to that. Their world may not be the charred remains of nuclear war like he supposedly is, but she would be lying if she said it was peaceful. It was  _anything_  but that. She wouldn't be in an Overwatch Watchpoint, otherwise.

Nathan turned around and walked back to his bed.

"You still got your youth, kid," he said. "Don't waste it."

"I'm not a kid!" she said, stamping her foot in frustration like a rabbit. Nathan only dismissingly waved his hand behind him before climbing back into his cot. Hana let out a groan of frustration and decided to leave him. It was late and their exchange would've gone nowhere. At least the prisoner was left finally in peace. Ready to get some rest for tomorrow.

The more he thought about tomorrow, the more he felt weary as he unconsciously yawned. Sleep was finally going to take over and he more than welcomed it. He might need the energy or what might be in store for him. Burrowing further into the comfortable cot of his cell, his eyelids slowly encompassed his eyes and turned his vision black.

It was short. It didn't last long.

His eyes shot open and met the concrete ceiling once again. Grimacing, he sat up in bed and brought his hands to his face to wipe away the drowsiness. He brought up his Pip-Boy, being slightly blinded by the screen, and looks at the clock. He only seemed to sleep for around three hours, more of a nap at most. He lies back down on the bed to go back to sleep, but footsteps in the hallway bring him back up.

'It's not even morning, yet _,'_  he tiredly remarked. 'What do they want no- _'_

He was expecting to see Brigitte, Dr. Ziegler, or even that girl to arrive by his cell door. Instead, he saw a man draped in a black hood, with a bone-white mask adorning his face. Nathan instantly rose from his bed but shortly realizes he was still powerless to do anything as he was behind a glass barrier. He doubted the figure was a part of Overwatch. Not to mention he was dressed like the  _Grim fucking Reaper_!

The "man" stares at him through the glass, his eyes hidden under the skull mask. His head cocked to the side a bit, indicating he seemed confused about something. Nathan likewise returned the gesture, his face hardened and waiting for the man to make a move. The reaper spoke, his voice low, grim, sounding as if it was synthetic.

"So…" the dark figure said, drawing out the sound. "You must be their new pet. What are you doing here?"

"I'd ask you the same thing," Nathan responded lowly.

The figure laughed, sounding ragged with each breath.

"I was here to collect, but now..." he stated, menacingly.

Smoke started to bellow from his form, which started to dissolve and mix in with the gas until he was nothing but a cloud. The Wastelander could only stare in pure bewilderment as the cloud seeped through the holes of his cell. Then, without warning, the cloud rushed into him and hurled him into the wall. Nathan yelped in pain as the cloud reformed back into the hooded figure, who now held him up against the wall by his throat. He clutched at the metal claw gauntlets that were holding his neck in a vice, feeling them dig into the skin. The taller man was surprised by his sheer strength, not even able to make the arm choking him budge even with his own strength and implants. It felt like being choked by a super mutant. Whatever he was, it was obvious he wasn't human. The reaper only stared at him, his expression unchanging because of the mask. His black holes roaming up and down Nathan, his face got closer, inches apart from his. Nathan gritted his teeth through pained breaths, awaiting the worst.

"... Not you," the reaper said, in some twisted act of mercy. "Not yet…"

Pressure then was relieved from his throat and Nathan fell to his knees, rubbing his neck as he gasped for air and cough. He hears wind rushing and looks up to see the man disappear into the ground as if he sank through. Nathan gets to his feet and stares at the spot, waiting and preparing for another assault. After some long moments, he relaxes his stance and falls flat on his ass. His ragged breathing echoes throughout the cell, still trying to recover from the encounter. Just then, the lights black out completely in the hallway, before a red dim replaces them. A voice echoes throughout the hallway and snaps him out of his pain. It's Athena, the Artificial Intelligence he met one time in the interrogation.

"Attention," she blares, sounding very alarmed. "Multiple Talon intruders detected! Repeat, multiple Talon intruders detected! All agents prepare for battle!"

An alarm echoes throughout the entire base. The door to his cell opens on its own, surprising the prisoner as he stumbles to his feet. He wearily makes his way to the door and peers throughout the hallway, seeing it empty. The other cells haven't opened on their own, for some reason. He doesn't question it, seeing it as his own opening. He bolts from his cell and to the door that will lead him to the rest of the base. He didn't know what the hell was happening, but he'd be damned if he stayed in one place.


	8. Castle Doctrine

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe

2076

Arriving at the only door at the end of the hallway and opening it, Nathan finds himself in a completely different block of the base. Not sure where to go, he picks a random direction and starts heading off there. Weaving in and out of buildings, hugging the wall, making sure to stay out of the open. It was still dark and he wondered where the hell everyone was. Then, the sounds of rotors cutting through the air started to echo throughout the sky, causing him to hunker down next to some crate. Scanning the sky, he sees two helicopters flying above and passing over him towards another location on the base. Another helicopter comes into view but hovers closer to his location as ropes spill out from both sides. Armed men in black uniforms then started to rappel down. He wasn't going to take any chances.

Opening the door to another building, Nathan shuts it behind him and starts to go deeper inside the building. It had wide open spaces and when he looked up, some type of aircraft parked onto a catwalk. Finding stairs that led up to it in a room on his right, he goes up and plans to see if it had anything useful within. He wasn't the first one to think that, however. As soon as he entered the craft through the side, he heard the hammer on a gun click behind him.

"Hands up!" commanded a feminine voice in a German accent

Nathan did as he was told, and slowly turned to see the source of the voice. It was Brigitte, the woman who had given food these past few days and was currently pointing what appeared to be a flare gun at him. Must've been the ship's.

"What are you doing here?" questioned Brigitte, eyeing Nathan's every move.

"I was going to say the same thing…" the tall man replied.

"I mean: Why are you out of your cell?" reiterated the brunette, as Nathan just stayed silent. "Well?"

Before Nathan could even come up with an excuse, a loud explosion echoed throughout the hangar. Without even worrying about the one armed with a flare gun, Nathan moved and peered his head out from the aircraft and peered down to the lower level. He saw a squad of six armed men moving in through the smoking remains of the door. They had their rifles pointed in all directions, lasers indicating where they were aiming. One of the beams veered upwards, causing him to take cover into the ship.

"Who the hell are these guys?" he asked.

"Wait, so, you're saying they aren't your friends?" Brigitte asked, eyebrow raised but flare gun still leveled.

"I think one of them nearly choked me to death back at my cell. So, no."

"Really? Who?"

"Someone who looks like the  _Grim Fucking Reaper._ '

"…Oh…"

"Alright. Is there anything here we can use? Any weapons, maybe?" Nathan asks, searching around the ship.

"Other than a flare gun and a monkey wrench? Nope."

Brin found the wrench she was talking about and felt the weight. It may be good for bashing someone's head in, but not easy if that same person has an assault rifle. He'd get further using this than just his bare fists, though.

"Fuck it," he declares. "I'll take one of theirs."

"Good luck with that," Brigitte wished him.

Peering out from the ship again and seeing none of them looking where he was, Nathan sneaked over to a doorway connected to the catwalk. He was in a room with stairs and was about to make his way down but he heard one of the men speak.

"I'm going topside to check out that aircraft," the man stated. "Ramos, with me."

It wasn't long until Nathan saw two red beams make their way into the room below the one he was in, making their way up the staircase. Knowing it wouldn't be long until they saw the man with the wrench and proceed to shoot the shit out of him. He had to think fast. As they went further up the stairs, the large man positioned himself over the rail and hovered there, waiting for them to be directly below him. Then, he fell directly onto one of them.

Landing on the armed man with a thud and knocking him down, Nathan quickly spun around whacked the other in the face as hard as he could. He dropped the rifle and fell to the ground as Nathan proceeded to beat his head in with the wrench, able to break through the helmet with his enhanced strength. Cracking the metal helmet, but the kinetic force was enough to damage him. That was until the first man grabbed him from behind, but the Wastelander elbowed him in the stomach to weaken his hold. Breaking away, he turned and smacked the wrench against him, causing him to twirl around. The Courier wrapping the wrench around his throat and pulled towards himself, strangling the helmeted soldier. The man tried clawing at his face, until the wrench angled and produced a sickening crack of the man's neck, his hands finally falling limp at his sides

"The hell's happening over there?!" cried out one of the soldiers outside. "Ramos? Sullivan? Respond!"

The Courier grabbed one of the rifles, handling it awkwardly as it was an unfamiliar design. Pressing what he assumed to be the magazine release, he popped the mag out and checked the ammunition count before putting it back in. He pulled back the charging handle and made his way to the side of the doorway, now noticing there were red dots on the wall parallel to him. He heard boots hit the ground slowly, hearing them get closer and closer. Nathan brought out the rifle and blind fired a burst and heard a thud shortly after.

"Contact! We got contact!"

Nathan peered from cover and saw one of them was down and in a pool of blood, but the others took cover and returned fire. He quickly fired back but stayed in cover as they kept peppering his spot. He fired another burst, aiming at a man who exited his cover and tried to fire his entire magazine at him. The man fell, but the other two kept the pressure on.

"Frag out!" yelled one of the men, before a round, dark object landed in the doorway.

"Shit!" Nathan yelled as he bolted from cover as the grenade exploded, evading fire as he dove to a set of crates under a tarp. However, he now had a clear view of one of the men firing at him, so he leveled the rifle and fired. The target collapsing and slumping to the ground. There was now one left.

Nathan exited his cover, shouldering the rifle as he approached where he thought he saw the last goon at. Rounding a corner, he sees him behind another corner fumbling with something. Either his rifle was out of ammo, jammed, whatever. His boot was sticking out, Nathan seeing this, aimed his rifle at his foot and was ready to make him stumble. He squeezed but was met with an audible click rather than a gunshot.

' _Stupid, stupid, stupid!'_  the veteran Waster thought as he cursed himself.

"I know that sound, asshole!" said the last man, as he rose from cover and now had his sidearm at the ready.

"How 'bout this!" said a familiar voice from above.

Turning to face the source, a glowing, burning ball of sulfur flew and lodged itself into his vest, right next to the loaded magazine. The cartridges started to go off, popping like firecrackers around his chest. He started to panic, desperately trying to put out the fire as he screamed. As his hands violently pat his chest, multiple rifle rounds find lodge themselves into him at high velocities as a thunderous register of a rifle goes off. The last goon dies instantly and falls to the floor, his chest still smoldering. The victorious Courier stands over him, his rifle in hand with a fresh mag. Footsteps approach him as Brigitte comes to his side, observing the corpse as well.

"Thanks for the assist," Nathan lowly said examining the new weapon in his hands.

"Don't mention it," Brigitte responded before she noticed blood on Nathan's left arm seeping out of a wound. "Jeez, are you all right?"

The scarred man looked at the wound, grimacing a bit before he just shrugged it off.

"It's fine," he reassured. "I can fix it up later."

"A bullet wound can't exactly be 'fixed' with a hammer and duct tape."

"You'd be surprised."

More gunfire and fighting rang out in the distance, causing one of them to stiffen up and both to face the direction it was originating from. Nathan had a feeling that was where he would find the rest of the people on this base, along with a few fellow unwelcomed guests.

"Sounds like they need some help," the perceptive man observed. The fighting sounded tense and heavy, and he currently wasn't the most prepared for taking on an army. However, they were his only ticket out of here. He doubted he would last long in this "alien" Earth without them. He'll take his chance, like he's done countless times, before. "I might have to offer."

"Any idea on what to do?" Brigitte asked.

Nathan looked around at the corpses surrounding them, seeing all the spare rifles and ammo they had.

"How 'bout you pick up a rifle," he suggested, gesturing to the closest one. "Extra firepower wouldn't hurt."

With that, the two made their way to the sound of the fighting. It wasn't long when they reached a staircase that led up to a building roof, taking cover behind crates under a tarp. They saw the battle before them, as multiple soldiers were currently assaulting a structure embedded into the mountain rock. They were already a few bodies of fallen soldiers strewn around the area, but they were advancing onto a big door.

"Okay," Brin started to lay down a battle plan. "You stay here and give me covering fire while I get on the ground and fight them. That should-"

"HAMMER DOWN!" they heard a man bellow, as a loud bang thundered and the ground in front of the door fractured and cracked as if the ground was erupting. Men caught in the path of the earth-shattering were knocked off their feet. Then, a large mass of metal "flew" out of the front and threw the men everywhere, except one, who was pinned by the machine and screamed until he was crushed into a wall and silenced. The metal giant, which now revealed to be a hulking suit of power armor, produced a huge hammer, and started swinging it into the soldiers, knocking a few about through the air and crushing others. They quickly fired upon the armor, causing the giant to stammer back and bring up his left arm, producing a large, rectangular blue shield of energy that blocked the oncoming fire. "JOIN ME IN BATTLE MY FRIENDS!"

"Nevermind, just shoot!" Nathan yelled as he shouldered the rifle and started picking off the soldiers, Brigitte joining him.

As this happened, others spilled out of the doorway, a few the Wastelander recognized; Dr. Ziegler, Winston, and that cowboy all came out and began fighting the intruders. He also saw the spiky-haired girl, some bearded dwarf with a hammer, and a bipedal robot, but it looked more like a pink egg with legs than a person. With their combined strength and the fire support from behind, they began to hold their own. As Nathan and Brigitte kept on firing, Nathan spotted something out of the corner of his eye and looked to see someone perched on top a nearby building. He then realized they had a rifle pointed directly at them.

"Get down!" he said, pushing Brigitte to ground as a sniper round whizzed right above them, leaving a trail through the air.

"Oh my God!" Brigitte screamed out. "That better not be Widowmaker!"

"What?!" Nathan asked before another sniper shot rang out, though he was unsure it was directed at them. Seeing a set of stairs leading down, he decided getting close and personal to the sniper would do them some good. "Stay here!"

Rifle in tow, he bolted from cover and made his way down the stairs before running to the building where he saw the sniper perched. Then making his way in through a back door and up onto a stairwell. He was about to reach the second floor up until something metal thing landed right in front. He didn't have time to react before it released a noxious, purple gas right in front of him, entering his lungs. He started coughing violently as his eyes stung and flooded with tears. Leaning against the wall as his lungs felt like they were on fire. Squinting, his watery, bloodshot eyes trying to peer through the gas and see anything beyond it. However, his eyes shot open when he saw an atmosphere of a red mist filled his vision.

It was all vivid to him; The aura of the Cloud and the blue lady of the fountain in the middle of it all. The Courier could only stare at the lady refusing to believe he was back... Back to that godforsaken resort. The blue lady, a figment of a long-dead woman, was elegant, refined as she raised her left arm to him. Nathan only stared but jolted to the side as a black cable shot out of her arm and a claw embedded itself into the wall behind him. His head turned back to the woman who was now hurling towards him, her heels connecting painfully connecting with his face. Nathan stumbles and tries to deliver a punch to the threat but is blocked by a metal barrier and sustains a blow to the side of his head, his stomach, and feet in quick succession. He falls down a flight of stairs and curls up in pain. The bruised and bloodied Courier peers up to the neutral visage of the hologram standing over him, looking at him expectantly. She smiles, and his heart skips a beat. She painfully stomped her heeled foot onto his chest but was too pained to yell out. Something pressed against his head, snapping him back to reality as he blinked rapidly.

He was back in the staircase, and above him was not a blue hologram, but a blue-skinned woman in a revealing, spandex uniform. She was pressing a sniper barrel into the side of his head as her boot was planted firmly into his chest. She was… Chuckling. Staring down at Nathan like some mere insect.

"Foolish man," she said in a thick, seductive but foreboding accent.

"V-Vera?..." he muttered in a pained voice.

The blue woman raised an eyebrow curiously at the name before that cruel smirk appeared again. She pressed the barrel harder into Nathan's skull, but three metal objects spun through the air and nearly sliced her face. She turned to the threat and raised her rifle and fired off a shot, and simultaneously had a shot fired back at her that took a piece of those goggles she was wearing. Knocked back and baring her teeth in anger, she threw her left hand towards the doorway and fired off a clawed cable, and was pulled herself into the direction through the air. A metal man with green lights over his body enters Nathan's view, turns around and kneels closer to the ground as if to provide assistance. Nathan weakly waved his hand in dismissal, lying that he was fine. The metal man merely nods and goes back to give chase to the blue woman, disappearing in a green flash.

After wallowing on the ground for a few moments, Nathan stands back up and tries to regain his balance. A sharp sensation of pain still emanated from his chest. He leaned against the wall for support and yelped in surprise as something razor-sharp poked him. He looked and saw the objects the man threw: stars embedded into the wall, one of their points with his blood on it. Today was not his day.

Grumbling all the while, he picked up his rifle and stumbled his way down a flight of stairs and outside, to where all the fighting was. It had died down, as the men in black uniforms were all strewn about, bodies in various positions as they laid there. Looked like they had won this fight.

"Oof!" Nathan yelled as he was pushed down to the ground forcefully, someone's knee pressing into his spine and a revolver pressing into his temple.

"The hell you doin' out here?!" exclaimed the cowboy, gritting his teeth as cold metal pressed against the side of Nathan's weary head. "You better not have caused all of this!"

"Woah, woah!" screamed Lena, as she zipped to his side. "McCree, what are you doing?!"

"He's supposed to still be in his goddamn cell! I swear if he coordinated the damn attack with Talon…"

"I didn't coordinate jackshit with those Talon pricks!" Nathan said, defending himself with a still gravelly voice. "One of them nearly choked me to death in my cell. Just ask Brigitte!... Where is she?"

"Here!" the mechanic called out a couple meters from them, sitting down as she was currently being tended to by Dr. Ziegler to what appeared to be some bruising on her face. That metal giant was also close to her but with his helmet off, showing a gray-maned man with worry on his face. "Just got in a fight with Widowmaker... Punched me right in the face... And don't worry McCree, he took out his fair share of bad guys. Saw him do it."

"Still doesn't explain how he got out," McCree said. "What happened before you got out?"

Nathan recounted the event in his mind, remembering the hooded figure arriving by his cell before the lights went out and his door mysteriously slid open.

"Some…" he started to explain. "Man in dark clothing and a skull mask appeared in front of my cell. He threw me against a wall and said he was going 'to collect'. Not me, and not right now."

The air grew silent as he explained what had happened, and he felt the pressure on his back relieve itself, but only a tiny amount.

"Where did he go? Where did you last see him?" McCree asked.

"He fucked off and disappeared through the floor, like a damn ghost. After that is when everything started getting fucked," Nathan explained.

After that, was when he felt his back be freed from the weight of a knee and revolver. He rolled onto his back and gasped for air as the morning sun slowly rose over him and showered him in warmth. It felt nice, relaxing for once. It wasn't bearing down on him like the Mojave but was a nice temperate sensation. He lied there on his back until a shadow cast over him. He looked up and see that a metal man with the neon green visor was looking down on him.

"Do you require assistance?" the "man" asked, his accent both foreign and robotic. "Or are you fine where you are?"

Nathan huffed at his question.

"Don't need a hand," he said as he got up on his feet. "Just need to plug some holes on my body… Where's my stuff?"

"Follow me," said the metal man, walking to a set of stairs.

Nathan followed and made his way up the steps. Stepping through the large doorway, he finds himself in a large room, equipment is strewn about and computer equipment everywhere. This place seems familiar.

The metal man led him to a table, one of many in this makeshift workshop, and noticed his entire inventory was all laid out onto it. The Waster hoped they didn't help themselves to his stuff. His eyes scanned over the table trying to find what he needed. They eventually landed on a group of syringes, filled with a red substance, and fitted with a pressure gauge. His hand reached over and picked one of them up. He rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a bullet wound that got worse from constant action. Thankfully it was a clean wound so he didn't have to get the pliers out. He was about to jab the needle in before the man, who was observing everything he did, interrupted him.

"I would suggest checking in with Dr. Zeigler, first," he recommended, a bit concerned Nathan's self-medicating.

"Relax," the Waster grumbly reassured. "Not my first rodeo... Uh...?"

"Genji," the man with the sword answered, with a slight bow.

"Nathan," returning the gesture with a nod to the shorter man.

He pierced his skin into his arm and injected the contents of the Stimpak into him, the syringe hissing as it does. He removed the needle and looks at both the entry and exit wounds slowly close, healing at an accelerated rate. It wasn't long until they had both fully healed, leaving nothing but a red stain.

Genji's head cocked to the side, silently curious and intrigued by what the syringe did and how quick it achieved it. He didn't bother asking questions, though.

Before he could answer, another voice sounded from above.

"Shimada?" said a glass-wearing gorilla, peering over the rails. "What is he doing here?"

"Do not fret, Winston," the Ninja reassured. "He helped fend off the intruders. What are you doing up there?"

"I need to discuss something with the entire team. It's rather urgent, so, can you please call all of them over here?"

Genji bowed to the gorilla and nodded to the Courier, before walking out of the room and leaving them behind.

"Oh," Winston said, getting Nathan's attention. "You can have your stuff back. You're going to need it rather soon."

"How so?" Nathan asked, curious as to why the gorilla wasn't very reluctant in giving his weapons and gear back.

"I'd rather give the explanation when everyone else is here."

Nathan squinted at him and scrunched up his features, before hesitantly nodding and going back to sorting his inventory and putting it back where it needed to be. If he needed to be prepared, right now would be the time. He wasn't going to question it further.

He rummaged through his supplies before an idea popped into his head, and he began to search the table for a device. The device that got him here in the first place. However, he could not find it. Starting to rummage through the table, swipe things away, and upturning everything unturned. The Wasteland Veteran started to worry with every passing second of not finding it.

"Where the hell is it?" Nathan asked himself, even going beyond the table and scouring the entire floor. "Where the fuck is it?!"

"Where's what?" called the glasses-wearing gorilla from up top, wondering what Nathan was worried about.

The tall man was standing in the middle of the lab, spinning wildly as he tried to look over every corner in hopes of spotting the device. After several moments of silence, the man looked up to the gorilla with a look of worry and rage through his eyes.

"The  _Transportalponder_... It's gone!"

* * *

Widomaker and Reaper sat in the tail end seats of the Talon dropship, the surviving Talon operatives occupied the seats furthest away from them - out of respect and fear. Reaper focused on the demeanor of the French woman, who was staring at the floor of the ship for the past few minutes. She seemed deep in thought about something. She seemed irritated.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"Another failed mission," she muttered, shaking her head at the outcome of their deployment. "And a kill taken away from me by that damn  _cyborg_."

"Who was the target?"

"That tall man with the beard. The one who looks like he does not belong there."

"No shit?" Reaper blurted out. "Had a run in with their 'prisoner', too. Intel didn't say anything about them having anyone else at their base. I wonder what gives..."

Widowmaker's ear twitch when she heard that, so she reaches behind her to retrieve a device. She tosses it to Reaper, who catches it in his clawed hand with ease. He brings it up to his cowl and examines the device, tilting his head to the side. It was black, had a yellow cap at its rear and had a trigger like some detonators, even with the red safety cover. However, it had some sort of antennae sticking out on top and was encasing a clear glass tube. It looked like a... Vacuum tube? Didn't look like it was working, though, as the tube was just dim and there seemed to be no power surging through it. Even clicking on the trigger a couple times, resulting in nothing. The R&D department at HQ might find some use for it...

"I retrieved it from the lab of that  _ape_ ," the Widowmaker explained.

"Was that all you could carry?" the Reaper asked. "Seems a bit light for a raid."

The blue woman only narrowed her eyes at the cloaked man.


	9. Contracted

Mojave Wasteland, Nevada

2285

The contubernium of Legionaries had been traveling through the desert for the better part of the day, long enough for the Sun to finally settle into the West. The desert had grown cold and the wind blew all around them. It mattered none to them, however, as they have been suffered through worse and could see the fire of their camp off into the distance.

Finally setting foot into the outer edges of the camp, the Decanus suddenly held up a balled fist to signal his men to stop. They complied, and the Legionary carrying the dog set him down before he brought a hand to rest on his machete's handle. It was quiet, except for the desert wind howling in the distance and the faint crackling of the campfire that beckoned to them. They were no other Legionaries in sight but them; none huddled around the fire, none tending to the supply tent, and none resting in their sleeping bags.

Placing his hands on his machete and its sheath, the Decanus slowly walked into the boundaries of the camp. His head swiveled and scanned the area, trying to catch any sign of life. Alas, he found nothing, but a red patch in the sand. Bending down and bringing a finger to the patch, he examines his now stained finger and rubs sand and blood with his thumb. It hadn't dried up, yet. Rising, he stares off into the distance and tries to spot anyone observing them, but is hampered by the darkness surrounding them. Where were the bodies? Where were the other Legionaries? How did they not hear fighting earlier?

His thoughts are cut off as a .308 round penetrates his head at high-velocity, causing an exit wound the size of a grapefruit to explode at the back of his head. His body collapses to the ground, and his contubernium scrambles to cover. More rounds start to pepper the Legionaries, varying in size, power, and frequency. Some are cut down before they could even get to cover. Others fire haphazardly into the darkness in hopes of even hitting their attackers. It wasn't long until they were cut down, too, by shots that were seemingly silent. The camp was silent again, with only the crackling of the fire present.

Cooper was still tied up, and his eyes darted nervously from corner to corner as he laid there, whimpering, and helpless. He then heard footsteps, farther away from the camp, make their way to the grounds. They must've been a hundred yards away from the camp, as it took them awhile to even reach the outskirts. Multiple men and women dressed in western outfits with leather hide bandoliers and toting rifles had walked into the camp, their guns still at the ready to pick off any stragglers. One man was taking point, a type of Service Rifle with a larger receiver in his hands. As he got closer to the fire, it revealed him to have pale skin under his brown stetson, and a ginger beard upon his face. His eyes weren't seen, as they had a set of black goggles over them. With one final, confirming sweep of the area, he lowered the muzzle of his rifle down and flipped up the night-vision goggles from his brown eyes.

"Nice work, Rangers," he congratulated his squad. "Let's call this into Station Charlie, and take anything we could use. They sure as hell won't need it."

He brought up a handheld radio to speak into it, but his eyes fall onto a dark pile on the edge of the camp. As he slowly approached it, he realized it was a dog, all tied up.

'The hell?' he thought as he walked over to its other side, seeing hopeful eyes look up at him. He looked down at the canine's eyes before his own widened at the realization who this dog was.

"Cooper?" he exclaimed.

He bent down and produced a knife to cut the dog from his binds. As soon as Cooper was finally set free, he jumped up and started gratefully licking the man's face, much to his displeasure at the slobber.

"Yeah, it's good to see you, too, Coop," his rescuer said against the flurry of licks.

"Bark!" the dog replied, wagging his tail energetically.

"What are you even doing here? Where's the Courier?"

Cooper whimpered at the mention of his owner's calling, before barking up at him and proceeding to walk towards a direction. However, only after a few steps, Cooper started to stumble and was clearly too weak to carry on. The man walked over to him and comfortingly rubbed the top of his head, before pulling up a radio.

"Parmley, here," the Ranger spoke into the device. "My rangers just cleared out a Legion camp. Gonna make our way back to Charlie."

"Roger that," said a male voice on the other end. "Good job, Ranger."

"One thing, though," Parmley said.

"What is it?"

"I found the Nathan Brin's dog. Legion had him prisoner, somehow. Wondering if we could send out a search party, next thing in the morning?"

There was a moment of silence on the radio as if the comms officer was contemplating something. They were usually quick on their tongues as much as their heels, so the pause was longer than usual.

"Just get back here safe and sound, first," the officer said. "Then we'll see what we can do."

"Roger that."

* * *

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe

2076

All the accounted for agents of Overwatch, plus one mechanic were all assembled into Winston's room and were currently huddled around his computer desk. They were still donned in their typical gear and apparel from the battle earlier and were all ready to listen to what Winston had to say if it was something so urgent. Sounded like an emergency, if they were being completely honest.

"Alright, everyone," said the deep voice of their pseudo-commander. "You all fought well, today, and proved once again Overwatch still has a fighting chance."

"You can always count on us, Winston!" Lena exclaimed, exuberantly jumping into the air. Some of the others also sharing in the enthusiasm

"I know, and I always will," Winston responded smiling, though his face soon took a serious visage. "However, as I have stated before, Overwatch's capability and power are nowhere near what they once were. We still have to tread carefully, otherwise, we could lose everything at a moment's notice."

The atmosphere dulled as soon he told the truth. Times of a bygone era flashing in the minds of every one of the Overwatch personnel. Even Brigitte cast her eyes down at the sorrow thought of a time passed.

"Which is why I have gathered all of you here," Winston explained. "If Overwatch is to survive and continue fighting for a better future, we have to expand and reach out to the world and show them that we are here to do good. So, I have to be the bearer of bad news."

At that, the genetically-modified gorilla typed on a few keys on his keyboard and multiple images appeared before the group, projected as holograms to them. They were being shown news footage, articles, images, etc. What they showed was not pleasant. One news skit showed footage of military personnel fighting off armed men in black in some sort of desert complex, another displayed still images of a train wreck in a canyon area next to some diner, and one of an explosion at in Africa with elegant and futuristic architecture.

"It appears," the Scientist started. "That Talon's intrusion on Gibraltar was not an isolated event. At around the same time, reports from all around the world started to surface and Talon could be linked to almost all of them."

The group all looked up at the images and instantly knew that their work was going to cut out for them.

"This only provides further evidence of what we already know," Winston stated, his voice taking on a stern tone. "We have to act!"

"But Winston," Angela spoke up, with a bit of a solemn expression. "We are still quite small. How are we going to effectively respond to those in need?"

"Well, we may not be able to instantly react to call for help in our current as I mentioned, but I have some good news to bare. I was able to get in contact with other Overwatch agents around the world that are willing to answer the 'Recall' and organizations around the world have taken notice, some even asking for assistance. Thankfully, we're not entirely alone in the fight."

"What's our next course of action, then?" Torbjörn asked, the rest of the team holding their breath.

"As I said we must act," Winston reiterated. "We have to act and utilize the opportunities bestowed upon us. So, if any of you wish to volunteer for missions, I'll give the go ahead and send you to the front. It won't be easy, but it will continue the good fight."

His friends stood there taking in every word he uttered. His second call to action for Overwatch. Without a doubt, they will answer it. For what they believed in.

"Just point me in the right direction, and I will bring my shield!" Reinhardt proudly boasted, ready to answer.

" _Hai_ ," said the Japanese swordsman. "My blade will be at your command."

"Come on, big guy, what did I just say?" Lena exclaimed. "You can always count on us."

Winston could only help but smile at the dedication of his team. His friends.

"What about  _him?_ " McCree questioned, looking out a window, making the smile on Winston's face disappear as he went over the window to see what he was staring at outside.

Outside was Nathan, the tall man standing on the cliff edge of the Gibraltar rock and staring out towards the morning horizon of the Mediterranean Sea. He was smoking a cigarette, taking long drags from it before expelling big clouds of smoke from his lips. As the scarred man finished his current smoke, he flicked the butt towards the water. He stood there for a time, staring blankly off into the sea, before taking out another smoke from a pack in his back pocket, sticking it in his mouth and bringing a shiny lighter to ignite its tip. Winston furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"I'm not sure," the Gorilla answered. "The device he said that could teleport him disappeared, most likely taken by Talon earlier. Though, if Talon took from him the very thing he needed to get back home..."

McCree was eyeing his boss, not sure if he was going to like what he was about to say.

"There might be alternatives for him…"

* * *

This wasn't part of the deal," Nathan spat out, scowling at the ape in front of him. "I thought I was supposed to help you understand and develop the tech I had with me, not do your  _damn_ errands!"

Nathan and Winston were currently in his office, where everyone else was earlier. Though, the only other occupants currently were Athena (naturally) and Angela, who wished to stay as a mediator in case things went awry. Hopefully, they didn't.

"I know," Winston acknowledged. "However, it would not exactly be fair since you do not have the... 'Transportalponder' you needed to get back home. I can't properly help you if it's not here."

" _Fair_ _?_ " the angered Waster repeated, in almost-disbelief. "You think sending me across the world fighting  _your_  fight is fair?!"

"But you would be helping in the fight against Talon! The ones who stole your ticket back home from you! It's a way of getting payback and back home."

"Payback goes both ways. Give me a reason I should do any of this shit for you?"

The man planted his arms against the table, making it shake. Winston then look down at his arms, fully in display, immediately seeing they were covered in damage from what seemed like years of being in a wasteland. It wouldn't be wrong to say this man has clearly been through a lot, but that probably came with skills he possessed. Skills that would probably serve Overwatch well, do plenty of good. Nathan did talk about how he earned a reputation as a "Courier" of all things. And if there's one thing Courier's work for, it's reward.

"How about," Winston started. "I sweeten the deal?"

The Courier only cocked his head to the side as to what he meant.

"I've noticed how you had an interest in some of our technology. So, how about I also give you some of our advanced tech in return for your tech and cooperation with us on our missions. You can do as you please with what I give you and get back home when the time comes. How's that sound?"

Brin weighed the options in his mind. Getting back home was top priority but nabbing some of the technology he's seen here, some of which rivaling even Big Mountain, wasn't something to scoff at. Some of it he could use depending on the circumstance. Still, he didn't like the thought of dying in this "unknown" world.

"I got one condition then," Nathan began to lay out. "I no longer have to sit in a cell or deal with any of the bullshit from before, and as soon as I find my Transportalponder I'm done with your missions."

"Fair enough," the Gorilla-Scientist noted. "As long as you behave and I won't be forced to resort to those measures."

"I won't give you a reason to."

"Hmph, I guess we're in agreement, then. Just tell me when you're ready to take on an assignment. I already have one planned. I'll have Athena escort you to your new quarters so you can rest up."

And with that, the Courier left Winston's presence and went to gather his things, before finally leaving the room and to his living quarters. Angela went to Winston's side with a disapproving look.

"Are you sure that is a wise idea?" she questioned the ape, concerned at how the deal was altered. "Giving him technology that he could possibly abuse is somewhat dangerous, is it not? You've seen what he can be capable of."

"I know," Winston agreed as he rubbed his head, still feeling a bit sore from taking a game rifle stock to the face. "But I don't plan on giving him the blueprints of a bomb. Or anything as dangerous as that."

"It doesn't matter. If there's a will, there's a way. I just don't think we can trust him with what we have."

"Hmm, well how about a little test, first?"

Dr. Ziegler perked a brow, wondering where he was going to go with this.

"How about you go with him on the first mission I plan to send him on. You monitor his behavior, actions, whatever, and report back to me about it. If he's too... Unstable, then I can see about restricting what he can have access to. If he's not, well, I'll just have to honor the deal."

Her face scrunched up as she thought about what Winston offered. It could help watch over Nathan Brin when he's outside of the base. He may be a dangerous man, but she doubted she had as much bad blood between him and her than with Lena or Winston. She could hold her own.

"I'll do it, but first, where are you planning to send him exactly?"

"Egypt," Winston answered as he went onto his computer and brought up a couple of screens, one reporting about a Talon incursion somewhere in Cairo and another that seemed to be a chat log, between Winston and some other person.

"I got in contact with someone, someone who works with Helix Security International and might need assistance in some matters. We just need to send an envoy first."

Angela went up to the desk and looked at the chat log, noticing the name of the messenger. It was one she hasn't seen for a long time.

"Fareeha?"

* * *

Nathan sat quietly in the cabin of the dropship, his marksman carbine in his lap as he field stripped it and examined the parts, for the umpteenth time. He had cleaned it and oiled it, along with the other weapons in his arsenal the night before. The man wanted to make sure they were in tip-top condition for his first mission for Overwatch, mainly because he was rather unsure what to expect. Being prepared for every possible outcome is what kept him alive. He had to pack lighter, however, forgoing most of the contents of his backpack for what he deemed the essentials: Ammo, meds, and a couple of grenades. The smokes stayed, of course.

The gist of the mission was that something was going on in Egypt, and someone who apparently knew Overwatch needed their assistance. Meeting up with their contact, finding out what the problem was, and solving the said problem was basically the overall goal of this deployment. Didn't really sound too different to what the Courier has done in the past; Except he was in Egypt this time. And to only add-on to the uncertainty of that dilemma he had to tag along with two others who were sitting across from him: McCree, the cowboy in that ridiculous get-up and the stetson over his sleeping face, and Dr. Ziegler, wearing a white undershirt beneath a blue button-up dress shirt, greenish cargo pants with brown boots, and a shemagh scarf around her neck. Guess she didn't want to stand out in her "angel" outfit. It wasn't far, though, if that duffle bag she had was any indication.

"So," Nathan said, looking up from his carbine. "Who and where are we gonna meet?"

"An old friend of ours," the blonde sort-of answered. "As for the where she specified a cafe not too far from where she is stationed. At the 'Temple of Anubis'."

"Why is she stationed at a 'temple'?"

"It's not a literal temple. It's an installation housing a God AI. That's why she is stationed there."

"Artificial Intelligence? Huh..."

Angela noticed Nathan's eyes wander to the bottom of the ship as he uttered those words. It seemed as if with each passing day and with every word he said only added to the mystery of him and where he was from. Much of what she got from that interrogation room was rather barebones information. And she only knew his name, age, and occupation, nothing else about his background. What else was he hiding?

"Landing on the outskirts of Giza," announced Athena's voice. "Please contact Winston as soon as you meet up with Captain Amari. And do remember to be careful out there."

"Don't worry yourself too hard, Athena," McCree said, stirring from his sleep. "We know what we're doin'."

He then casts a glance towards the man in the trenchcoat under the brim of his hat.

"At least I hope so..."

After vacating their ship in the remote part of the Saharan Desert, it wasn't long until the three had found themselves in the hustle and bustle of Giza. They were currently walking in the middle of a very busy market - a bazaar - where all sorts of vendors were trying to peddle goods to passers-by. Dr. Ziegler was currently leading the group to where they needed to be, with Brin behind her and McCree tailing him. He didn't mind. Much.

Looking around and taking in what is technically his first exposure to an alien civilization, Nathan is somewhat astonished of how reminiscent this bazaar was to some trade hubs back in his California. Even the heat felt like home. But with much more activity and distractions to watch out for. He even had a bit of difficulty trying to weave through the crowds and groups gathered, made more difficult to his stature. If there was one thing that perplexed him, however, it was how they didn't seem to care that he had a big Brush Gun on his back or the revolver on McCree's hip. He'd imagine that in a world where civilization was seemed fine, seeing weapons on the streets would be somewhat alarming.

"What gives?" he mutters as he looks around, seeing people in rags and uniforms walk-by, paying them no mind.

"Pardon?" responds the woman in front of him.

"I'm walking around in armor with a big rifle on my back, and  _he_  has a revolver that ain't exactly concealed. And no one seems to care."

"Well, Egypt has become rather  _unstable_  as of late. So much so that the violence has, unfortunately, become something to be expected here. It's a long discussion and for another time. If anything, they probably think you two are my bodyguards."

'Makes sense _,'_ the Wastelander thought as he continued following the woman and looked around some more. Then, he practically stopped in his footsteps when something caught his eye. On a big wall in front to his right seemed to be a set of posters, except they were holographic and had the words "WANTED" labeled onto all of them.

Stepping up to one of them, his helmeted eyes study it as it shows a colored electronic image of a white-haired man in a mask, with a single red line as the eye. He was identified as a "Soldier: 76" and was apparently charged with assault, theft, and vigilantism. And he didn't know the exchange rate of caps to these "E£", but he could guess from the number of zeros that it was a hefty bounty.

'Huh, so that's what they look like here.'

He then hears a child's voice behind him.

Turning around, he sees a young boy holding out an open palm to Angela, begging it seems. The doctor was speaking to the boy in Arabic, bending down to the kid's height. After exchanging a few words, she somberly shakes her head, Nathan putting two and two together and seeing she had nothing to spare for the boy. The boy slumps and acts disappointed, hurt even. He walks past her and Nathan was about to let him be on his way until he noticed his hand move, a quick movement, easily missed. The tall man's gloved hand shoots forward and grabs the boy's forearm in a crushing vise, startling him as he then tries to scramble away. The boy is yelling and batting at the man, causing a commotion.

"Brin!" the Doctor screams. "What are you doing?!"

The Courier's helmeted head looks back at the two, Ziegler with a shocked look and McCree steaming with anger, but held back by the blonde. He looks back at the boy and grunts at him, making him look directly at his red visors. Angela and Jesse held their breath as Nathan held out an open palm to the boy, and after a few moments of nothing happening, jutted the palm into the boy's face to reiterate. The kid looks away, shame and embarrassment forming on his face, but finally relents when he places a black, rectangular object into the gloved palm, fingers wrapping around it.

"Wha- ?" Angela exclaimed, who then pats at a pants pocket to find that it is empty. "M-my phone!"

The Courier lets go of the child, who rubs his forearm tenderly and looks back at the man in the duster in contempt.

"Beat it, kid," the man coldly commands, the boy not understanding the words but the tone. He runs away off into the distance, away from the three. Nathan looks to his right and sees the crowd casting a few glances, but goes back to their business as soon as his red eyes cross their gaze. He gives the phone back to its owner.

"I guess he thought a tourist would be an easy target," the perceptive Courier observed. "Let's go, I don't like these eyes on me."

Doing their best to not get sidetracked, again, the group kept on walking to their intended destination and had finally reached it. As Dr. Ziegler described, it was indeed a cafe, a modest one at that. With a few tables outside and inside, the group decided to escape the heat and go inside. Even here, the patrons didn't seem to care too much about the presence of the gunslinger and the courier. What they were there for was the patron sitting alone at a table, a brown-skinned woman wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket and a pair of jeans with combat boots, and gold bands hanging from some of her black bangs. She had a cup of tea at her lips, savoring it with her eyes closed, one of them bearing some kind of tattoo. She looked up at the group with those eyes, and her face lit up at who she saw.

"Fareeha!" Angela exclaimed, as she went over and enveloped an old friend in a hug. "It's been too long!"

"Too long," the taller woman noted with a warm smile, before letting go. "I see you brought the cowboy with you."

"Hey, lil' sis," the man in the poncho greeted, the first time Nathan ever heard compassion from him since his arrival. "How are things?"

"Could be better," she admits as she wraps her arms around the man's torso, who returns the gesture. "Hopefully, with you two here things will finally star-"

Fareeha lets go of Jesse and steps back, her face losing its friendly demeanor as she stares at something behind the man she hugged. McCree steps to the side and looks at what she is looking at, and sees the taller stature of the metal helmet, duster, and riot gear that was their third guest. Her response was justified, and he thinks Nathan should've dressed more casual _,_ in hindsight.

" _Who are you_?" Fareeha questioned, her eyes narrowing at the man.

"Fareeha..." her blonde friend cautiously said, approaching her, and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "This is Nathan. He's here to help"

"He's not from Overwatch. I know practically everyone from Overwatch."

"He's... An 'ally'. So, please, don't worry about it."

The younger woman looked at Angela with a hesitant expression and hardened as she looked back at Nathan. She straightened and held out her right hand towards the man, gazing up at him expectantly.

"Fareeha Amari," she said as if she forgot he was in earshot of their entire exchange.

"…Nathan Brin," humoring her anyway, taking her hand and shaking it as she maintained a stern, neutral expression against his metal visor, noting the pressure she applied to his hand. "How 'bout we get to discussin' what we're all here for?"

"Right," Fareeha merely said.

They all took their seats at the table. Jesse and Angela across from each other, and Fareeha and Nathan across from each other, as well. The latter didn't bother taking off the mask.

"So," her Cowboy friend started, having the courtesy to take off his hat and put it on the table. "What's been happening in your neck of the woods?"

"Nothing good, for starters," Amari said. "Are you aware of the incident at the 'Temple of Anubis'?"

"The one where you shut that thing down?"

"No, not that. The more recent one, where Talon attacked us out of nowhere. We fended them off, but it was still unprecedented. They knew exactly where to hit, what weak points to focus on, and even the location of our patrols. Someone informed them of what to do."

"Who do you reckon?"

Before answering, Fareeha rose her head a little and looked around, scanning the room, and ducking down to her tea.

"There's this local crime lord, Hakim," she said in a hushed tone. "And we had reasons to believe he has connections to Talon. So, after they launched an assault on our outpost, we tried to send a detachment to seize to his compound and arrest him. However, someone got their first and there were dead bodies scattered all over the place. When we tried to seize his compound, a U.N. task force was sent in and told us they were taking control of the compound."

"The U.N?" the Doctor asked, surprised. "What are they doing here?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm looking to you guys for help. Something is in there, something apparently important enough for an international entity to pop out of nowhere and lay claim to it. I need you guys to get it."

"Now hold on," Jesse said, holding up his hand. "Why do you want this so much? Sounds like the U.N. is doing your job for you."

"I lost men taking back Anubis, McCree," Fareehah grimly remarked as she looked him dead in the eyes. "And men keeping it from Talon. I don't even think Hakim is in a cell but hiding. Whatever is in that compound could help me track down Hakim and bring him to justice, as well as some answers."

Justice; Nathan may have had a mask on but he was listening intently to everything they said. And the mention of her reaching out to Overwatch for sounded like revenge in the name justice piqued his interests.

"What makes you think they ain't doing that as we speak?" McCree asks.

"Because they refuse to cooperate with me or any of the higher-ups at Helix," Captain Amari responded. "Even when we have significant evidence to bring Hakim into custody. And as I said, their timing was  _impeccable_."

The conversation fell back into silence as the group mulled over what they were told. If they were going to go through with what she had in mind, that meant directly clashing with the U.N., Overwatch's  _other_  nemesis on the global stage. Though they would be helping an old friend, the daughter to another dear, old friend, and hopefully root out another of Talon's lackeys.

"Alright," the cowboy spoke up. "What's the plan?"

"Not here, and not now," the captain said, shaking her head. "We'll discuss it somewhere more private. You have a place?"

"We came here in a dropship, on the outskirts of the city," the Doctor quietly stated. "It should serve as a small base of operations. Does that work?"

"It should. Also, there's something else I need to discuss. With just you two."

She addressed Nathan with a commanding gaze when she uttered those last four words. Not up to debate, Nathan huffs and gets up from his chair and goes outside back into the street. The three watch him leave, and Jesse and Angela look back at Fareeha, wondering what warranted such a response.

"Is there something wrong, Fareeha?" her blonde friend, concern ever present in both her face and voice.

Fareeha addressed Angela before reaching behind her and pulling out an envelope, one that was already opened.

"You speak and read Arabic, no?" the Egyptian asked, expectantly. "Please. Read it."

Heeding her, she carefully takes out the letter and unfolds it open, and soon her eyes scan over the foreign words. McCree looks over at her, curious as to what the contents of the letter were. It wasn't long for the Swiss woman's eyes to widen and her hands practically clutch tightly at the edges of the letter.

"F-fareeha," Angela says, her voice choking up. "Is-is this really..."

"I don't know," was all the daughter could mutter.

* * *

For around ten minutes, the scope of a sniper's rifle from on top a building was focused on the smoking form of a stranger in front of the cafe across. The same stranger who walked in the cafe with Jesse McCree and Angela Ziegler and the same cafe Fareeha Amari walked in. Whoever the man in the trench coat was, the suppressed muzzle of the rifle was trained on him and followed him when he moved to the left, right, and back again, never once deviating.

"Wonder what that thing on his arm is," said a gruff, old voice next to the hooded sniper. "It's bulky as hell."

"That's the least I'm worried about," said a feminine and withered voice from the sniper. "I've never seen him, before. Why is he with the 'new Overwatch'?"

"Don't know. Could be a merc that Winston hired. Though, I don't know what kind of merc would have an old AR carbine  _and_  a lever-action with him..."

"I doubt Winston would stoop that low."

A few seconds later, Jesse, Angela, and Fareeha exited the cafe and onto the street. The sniper kept her crosshairs on the taller man. Fareeha gave Jesse and Angela both hugs, and the stranger a mere nod. They went their separate ways, Fareeha going in one direction and the other three another.

"Let's go, Ana," the man in the mask and blue leather jacket said. "Let's see where they're hiding out."

"Right behind you, Jack," the sniper complied, before looking back at the form of Fareeha. "See you soon,  _ḥ_ _abībti_."


	10. Prove Your Worth

Ranger Station Charlie, Mojave Wasteland, Nevada

2285

It was dawn, the desert sun rising over the East and its golden rays wash over the dry landscape. It wasn't long for the beams of light to be awash over an outpost, a concrete wall perimeter that had the rusted hulls of cars and trailer caravans inside, some of them stacked on top another with wooden planks creating walkways between them. There was also an office building, located right next to the only entrance of the perimeter and right in the center of it all. The entrance displaying a wooden sign with the flag of a two-headed bear.

A man was on top of the office building, sitting on a chair right next to a small circular table that had a pair of binoculars, an ashtray, and a morning brew of steaming coffee. The Ranger dressed in a blue plaid shirt, worn light jeans, and brown, dusty boots, was keeping a watchful gaze towards the valley that led eastward from the station, careful to spot out any threats,  _especially_  ones dressed in crimson. Legion activity had died down in the Mojave ever since Hoover Dam, to the point where it was almost negligible. Still, if that camp they took out last night was any indication, they had to be careful.

As the ginger-bearded man took a sip from his coffee, light snoring brought his attention to his feet. Next to his leg was the sleeping, curled up form of Cooper, the dog getting some much-needed rest after eating a bowl of molerat stew graciously provided to him. He knelt to the dog and gave him a few light pets across the top of his head, making the canine's ear flick. He smiled before the sound of approaching footsteps from a wooden plank caused him to rise from his seat, and spill some of his coffee and wake the dog up.

"Sorry, Cooper," he muttered, before facing the man who walked up to the roof. "Morning, sir!"

"Morning, Parmley," a bearded man in a ranger outfit and hat greeted. "How's Cooper holding up?"

"Just fine, Rubin. A bowl of food would make any dog happy. Ain't that right, boy?"

"Woof!" the dog answered, as he looked up at Parmley with his tongue hanging out.

"So, sir, have you agreed to approve my request to send out a search party?"

As soon as Parmley mentioned that, the comms officer's demeanor changed. He let out a sigh, signifying he was disappointed with something.

"Yes, and no..." Rubin regretfully answered.

"What's that supposed to mean, sir?" Parmley asked.

"Yes, you can go out and search for the Courier, but, you can't bring an entire search party with you."

"What? Why? There absolutely no reason for that to happen?"

"Son, Ranger Station Charlie has been through a lot, as you are aware. When the station was taken back and reinforced, and soon defended from another Legion onslaught, it was hailed as a great victory not just for the Rangers, but the NCR as well. So, the brass doesn't think we should spare the manpower for a search as that could hurt the image."

Ranger Parmley literally could not believe the reasoning he was just told. None of it made sense. Only getting frustrated at that moment.

"What?!" he exclaimed, more than annoyed. "The reason I can't bring a party with me is that it could 'hurt our image'? That just sounds like a load of shit. For Christ's sake, Legion and raider activity's been at an all-time low, so what harm could be done by bringing two or three other rangers with me?"

"Parmley-"

"And I'm looking for the  _Courier_ , of all people, sir! The same person who helped  _hold_  this place for the Rangers when the Legion came around a second time! Why the hell would looking for him be 'hurt our image'!?"

"Because he's the same person responsible for all the nasty business that happened up in Utah. And the business with that politician."

The ginger Ranger froze at the mention of Utah and remembered hearing all the accounts of what had happened at a town in a small, snowy landscape in the mountains. Accounts of how an entire town was wiped out and buried in a mass grave, and how the Courier was reported to have died at the hands of someone who had long held a grudge against the man. And then, reports of the Courier rising from the dead and taking revenge upon the man who buried him; though, it was already too late to save the town. A town that would've fallen under the New Californian flag.

However, the incident with that senator was...  _Strange_. It was reported that the Courier, not long after coming back from Utah, went to the NCR Embassy on the Strip and straight up  _murdered_  an emissary working at the embassy. No, not "killed", as that's really an understatement. He  _tortured_  the man to death, blocking the door to his office with filing cabinets. The MP's reported hearing the man's blood-curdling screams for almost half an hour, before finally breaking through the door to find a dismembered and mutilated piece of flesh that was once an NCR politician. And what was even stranger being the Courier just  _surrendered,_  no resistance from him when the MP's arrested him. If it wasn't for all the things he did for the NCR, he could've very been put in front of a firing squad...

But why  _that_  politician? If Parmley remembered correctly, he was just some young startup and wasn't as slimy as the other politicians who pocketed money from Brahmin Barons.

No, the Ranger wasn't having any of it.

"There's still gotta be something you can do," Parmley said, practically pleading at this point. "He's still done a lot of good for us, and me. Hell, he's probably the reason we won Hoover Dam in the first place! He could be in trouble and it only feels right to return the favor to him."

Rubin opened his mouth to speak up but pulled back as he really couldn't argue with him on that. The Courier was a legend, a hero of the Mojave. Even though opinion about him has soured a bit in recent years, he's never done the Rangers wrong. Especially Station Charlie. However, the Rangers weren't the only one he's done right by, as a man on the ground was listening intently to the conversation on the roof.

"Alright," Rubin relented, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't give you a party of rangers, but... I can give you an extended leave, as much time as you need to find the Courier so you don't go AWOL. Don't take too long, though, or else the Brass will be up my ass again."

It was better than nothing, and Parmley didn't mind working alone occasionally. It helped his tracking skills grow.

"Thank you, sir."

Parmley then went down the stair-planks and gathered supplies for the road: meds, ammo, and food for two. Tying a red bandanna around his neck, adorning his head with a rawhide hat and sunglasses, and slinging a .308 chambered Service Rifle over his shoulder, he was ready to set out and find the Courier. Before he even set foot out of the perimeter, however, he felt a hand a grace his shoulder. The Ranger turns around and sees a man in sleeveless trooper armor with a sling of pouches wrapped around it, sunglasses covering his eyes, a scoped hunting rifle on his back, and a prominent red beret atop his bald head

'Hot damn, 1st Recon!' the Ranger exclaimed in his mind, immediately recounting the war stories he's heard about the sniper battalion. 'What is he doing at a Ranger Station Charlie?'

"Hey," the man greeted, in a low voice. "I heard you were going to go out there and search for Nathan."

"Yeah," Parmley said, eyeing the man and his specific use of the Courier's actual name. "What about it?"

"I wanna come, too. He's a friend, and if he's in trouble I need to be there."

A friend? Parmley stepped back and looked at the sniper and trying to figure out how he even knew the Courier. That's when he remembered the story of him and a man armed with a sniper rifle defending the refugee camp of Bitter Springs from a Legion slaver party. Yet, another victory for the NCR gained by the Courier.

"You're Craig Boone!" the young Ranger exclaimed, almost elated. "I've heard stories about you and Nathan."

"So, I've heard..." Boone remarked. "Well, is that enough to convince you to let me join?"

"Sure! Wait- but," Parmley did a double take. "Aren't you supposed to be stationed elsewhere? Why are you even here?"

The Sharpshooter just shrugged.

"I'm on leave and I stopped by here to rest up."

"Why are you geared up, then?"

"I hunt slavers when on leave."

* * *

Outskirts of Giza, Egypt

2076

The Saharan desert sun had finally relented its watch over the dunes and settled into the West, giving way to the Moon. Unfortunately, frigid temperatures now replaced the relentless heat, not freezing, but rather uncomfortable for those without shelter or something to keep them warm. An orca colored dropship, situated right next to the remains of an old village, was thankfully such a shelter for the occupants inside. Within the cabin, Jesse, Angela, and Fareeha were gathered around the holographic table and looking over a map of Hakim's compound, bright blips and symbols used to signify the position of guards, patrols, and important landmarks.

"Gotta ask," Jesse said, directed towards Fareeha. "How'd you get all this intel, anyway?"

"I was thorough in my research," she answered. "I had some of my most trusted men recon the compound, even before you arrived."

"Does Helix know about any of this?"

"No."

That caused McCree to frown before he just shook his head and continued to look over the geography. The plan was basically to sneak in, take in what they needed, and get the hell out before anyone was none the wiser. Though, pissing off the U.N. is one thing, pissing off Helix Security International was another. At least, Overwatch would get the blame.

"So, this will be where you will infiltrate the compound," Fareeha started, laying out the details as she pointed to the southern side of the compound. "Thanks to Hakim being a lavish spender, there is plenty of vegetation and greenery to cover an entrance into the perimeter, as well as an exit out. Once you're inside, you will have to infiltrate the large building and break into Hakim's office. What we need should be there."

"Any idea of what we should look for, specifically?" Jesse asked.

"Documents, files, reports, whatever. If it can provide any information pertaining to Talon and Hakim's whereabouts, grab it."

"Hmph, sounds familiar."

"I have to clarify one thing, however: Absolutely no killing! Dead bodies will only complicate things and cause hell for all of us if this mission screws up."

It was at that moment that Dr. Ziegler placed a black case onto the table, unlatched it, and opened it up to reveal two dart guns. They were largely black, with some pieces being a dark blue. The "slide" of the gun was just a cylinder that was flat at the muzzle but had three blue prongs that formed a triangle with each other. There on the sides of the gun were viewing panes, meant to show the contents of the gun but it was currently empty. In the case were 10 darts filled with a golden substance.

"Fortunately, I brought along something to assist you with this mission," the Doctor explained as she pulled one out of the case and handed it to McCree, muzzle facing away from him. "They aren't terribly accurate and do have limited range, so you'll have to make your shots count."

"How long do the shots last?" the Cowboy asked as he felt the gun in his hand.

"It should knock them out for a couple hours. Long enough, I hope."

McCree sighted the dart gun, a bit ungainly in his big hands as he swept the interior of the dropship, before landing the sight plain on the hunched over form of Nathan, who occupied the booth seat and was loading rounds into a magazine for his carbine.

"Muzzle discipline, cowboy," Nathan said, his eyes still focused on the magazine. "Or I'll stick it so far up your ass that your nose'll be the barrel."

Jesse smirked but his eyebrows twitched in response as he lowered the gun set it back down onto the command table and addressed the other two.

"So, what'll you two be doing?" he asked the Captain.

"I'll stay here and provide radio assistance," Fareeha explained as she picked up a wireless headset. "Athena will also provide assistance whenever possible, helping me scan out and observe what is happening around you."

"And I'll stay here, as well," Angela said. "But I will have the Valkyrie suit online and at the ready, in case any of you require medical assistance."

"I guess we're all ready, then," McCree noted, then turning. "What about you,  _Brin_? Ready to make something of yourself?"

Nathan did little to regard him as he grabbed his metal helmet situated it onto his head before he grabbed a magazine, tapped it on his dome a couple of times, and jammed it into his marksman carbine. He stood up and grabbed his duster to drape it over his armored body, completing his "signature" outfit. He started walking towards the exit, passing by the three gathered around the table.

"Let's just get this done with," the Courier only muttered.

* * *

Using a jeep Amari used to drive to their hideout, McCree and Brin had finally reached Hakim's compound. Ditching the jeep a couple hundred meters earlier to avoid detection.

They now were on the outskirts of the "forest" Fareeha had described earlier, providing them a place to hide amongst the vegetation. Security was seemed tight around the compound, as two heavily armored vehicles were guarding the entrance and patrolmen were all over the perimeter. The decorative "pillars" seemed to have turned into watch towers as the beams of spotlights are emanating from them and scanning the ground in front of them. They couldn't see what was happening inside the perimeter but they thankfully had the help for that.

"Pharah," McCree whispered into his headset, specifically using her callsign. "We're right outside the compound. Gonna climb in now and get what we're after. Over."

"Copy that," Pharah acknowledged. "Remember, it should be the bigger building where Hakim's office is. I don't know what it will be like inside so be careful."

"Can do."

Jesse brought a rope with a claw at the end, which they are going to use to the scale the wall and subsequently make a safe descent down. Meanwhile, Nathan produced a circular device with wires and wrapped the leather strap to his right forearm.

"What is that?" Jesse asks, noticing the odd-looking device.

"Stealth Boy," Nathan answers, fastening the leather strap. "Only one I brought with me for this mission."

"What's it do?"

"You'll see."

Jesse only furrowed his eyebrows before he went to focus on swinging the claw up the wall.

After spinning it like a lasso for a couple of seconds he finally let's go and the claw soars through the air and over the wall. He then pulls on the rope and stops when he feels resistance, indicating the prongs were firmly in contact with the hard surface of the wall. Nodding to Nathan, he grabs the rope and plants his feet firmly onto the vertical surface of the wall and starts to climb his way up to the top. The man behind him following suit. Finally, reaching the top of the wall, McCree brought the rope up and placed the prongs of the claw on the other side of the wall and threw the rope down into the compound so they can safely descend. Their boots were finally down on the ground, in the other forest patch.

They looked around and saw they were some patrols meandering about as well, and another armored vehicle parked right in front of the gate. Thankfully, none of them were focused where the Cowboy and Courier were hiding.

"Heh," McCree let out an amused chuckle as he shook his head. "U.N. sure knows how to pick 'em. Let's go."

They made their way to the large building, slowly hugging to the walls, and making sure to stay in the shadows and out of any U.N. soldiers line of sight. At the back of the large building, the door had an electronic lock with a security screen built right next to it.

"Don't worry," Jesse said, he brought out some sort of gray, plastic card with black bars all over it. "Winston made sure I came prepared."

He waved it in front of the screen's scanner and after a few seconds the screen blipped green and the magnetic locks of the door making noise before the door slightly opened inward. Nathan keenly watching all the while.

"What was that?"

"Kinda like a master key. Except for run of the mill security systems. Should make things easier."

Sneaking in with dart guns at the ready, they find themselves in some sort of kitchen, completely empty of life. It looked nice, though, the work of some top-tier designer. However, the look of sleek granite counters was the least of their concerns now. They moved silently into the neighboring rooms, crouching low to the ground, and checking their corners as they walked across the hard floor. Finding a staircase, they slowly crept up the steps, wary of the noise they were applying with their boots. The upper floor was also devoid of life as they made their way to a set of doors also blocked off by another security door. Didn't put up too much of a fight, as McCree merely waved his wonder card in front of the scanner and the office cracked open.

Inside they find the walls were lined with bookcases, paintings, and display cases of ancient pieces of art, most likely Egyptian in origin. At the end was Hakim's desk, where his computer was. The man in the poncho walked right up to the machine and plopped himself onto the leather office chair in front of it. Turning it on, he sees it requires a passcode before doing anything. Huffing at this, he produces a white rectangle with a silver metal tip and plugs into the computer. After he does that, the screen blinks off and up again, before showing the logo of Athena.

"Connection established," the AI stated, as she breaks into Hakim's computer and multiple screens pop up as she begins to download all the files she can. "It shouldn't be long until we have what we're here for."

"Good," McCree notes. "Looks like this we'll be outta here in no time."

As Athena and McCree do their thing, Nathan walks around the office and looks around. The bookcase, especially, grabs his attention as he looks over the inventory. Most of it was in Arabic, so he had no idea what the titles were about, but some were in English. One of them, a novel of all things, looked much older than the rest and had a worn-down spine. His eyes, focused on the title of the book, darted to the above space in between the shelves and noticed something out of the ordinary. A metal corner was sticking out from behind the book, prompting him to remove it. He then saw that it was a part of a safe.

"McCree," the Courier called over to the Cowboy. "I found a safe here. Might wanna check it out."

"Well, hot damn," McCree uttered as he walked over to the bookcase by Nathan's side. "Athena, is there anything you can do about that?"

"I'm afraid not," she answered. "I am not detecting the safe anywhere within this building mainframe. It is not connected to the security systems so carrying it may be your best bet."

"How the hell are we going to do that?"

The loud crashing jolted him as he watched Nathan slam the butt of his game rifle to the surrounding space around the safe. Books were thrown apart and the wood was cracked around it. It felt like the wall was shaking every time he brought the stock down.

"Woah, woah, Jesus!" McCree exclaimed. "What're you doing?! You're going to alert every damn guard here!"

"Athena said carrying it was our best bet," Nathan stated, not breaking from his task. "And Amari wanted anything of value, so I'm not going to let this slip by. Besides, I'm already done."

Indeed, the wall surrounding the safe was pulverized thanks to the strength and implants in Nathan's body. Slinging the lever-action over his shoulder, his wraps his hand around the edges and pulls, causing the safe to move inch by inch. Shaking it out of the drywall, the safe is finally set loose as dust and debris scattered everywhere. The safe wasn't very big, no bigger than one of those thick books on the bookcase, really. However, if it had to be secured to a wall and hidden by a bunch of books in the office of a crime lord, it probably meant it was important. Nathan stuffed it into his pack with ease.

"Download complete," the AI chimed, bringing McCree's attention back to the desk and grabbing the white flash-drive before pocketing it.

"About damn time," he said, before glaring at Nathan. "Let's get out of here before you start breaking up more shit."

And with that, they vacated as they entered, leaving under the cover of darkness, and using the rope to disappear into the conveniently placed vegetation from before. They were now far from the compound, and by extension far from the U.N.

"Heh, surprised that went off without a hitch," McCree remarked as he held the flash-drive in his hand. "Rarely see that in this type of work. Good thing I didn't have Tracer with me."

"Yeah," the taller man merely said. "Let's just get back there and give Amari what she..."

Nathan stops in his tracks as he looks up, his eyes focused on a set of red lights in the sky. McCree stopped and noticed as well, seeing the red lights and how out of place they were. They weren't stars and were getting bigger and bigger as if they were flying right to them.

A large black aircraft swooped over them, cutting through the air, and causing the men to brace themselves as the desert sand kicked up all around them, their poncho and duster flapping in the wind. They turn around and see it flying directly towards the compound. As it flew over the checkpoint, it sends out two missiles, each for the armored vehicles and destroying them in an explosion of fire and metal. An alarm immediately starts to blare off as U.N. troops start firing at the ship. Then, small arms fire starts to emanate from the area in front of the checkpoint, directed at the U.N. troops. The compound was under attack.

"Ah, shit," the Courier muttered under his breath. "We better get out of here, fast!"

He was about to make double-time it back to the jeep until a metal hand grabbed him by the arm. He looks back to see McCree with a stern look on his face.

"No," he said. "I'm going to help them."

"Are you serious?" the man in the duster questioned, in almost disbelief. "We supposed to get in and get out, nothing more! You really wanna risk your life for people we're not supposed to be saving."

"I ain't gonna let Talon wipe 'em out. If you ain't gonna help out? Fine. Just get this back to Fareeha before I'm there."

He tosses the white flash-drive Nathan, who barely catches it in the palm of his hand as the Gunslinger in the poncho ran off into the distance and the hail of gunfire.

"McCree!" Nathan yells running at him, trying to get him back here before he relents and stops in his tracks. "Shit! You stupid motherfucker!"

"Brin?" he heard the voice of Amari in his helmet's radio. "What's going on? Athena's picking up large activity happening at Hakim's compound. Where are you?"

"Talon's attacking the compound. They might be after the same thing we are."

"What?! Where are you?"

"I'm outside the base, but McCree just ran headfirst into battle to fight Talon. Trying to be a goddamn hero."

There was only silence on the after that last transmission, the Courier being unsure of what to do next. He had what they were there for, and he didn't need to get involved in another firefight he had no part in. But if that idiot, McCree, dies and he did nothing about it; he should probably start getting used to sleeping in a cell again. The shit he finds himself in.

"Brin," once again hearing the commanding voice of Captain Amari. "I contacted my squad and they will soon be there to provide reinforcements. Angela and I will bring dropship there to provide further assistance."

"What about the files?" the Waster questioned. "The things we came here for?"

"I'd rather not let more people die, nonetheless one of my own friends, over some files I wanted. That can wait."

"Well, shit. Fine. I'll make sure that idiot doesn't die."

"Thank you."

The Courier ran towards the compound, feeling the intensity of the firefight get closer and closer as he watched rounds fly through the air and explosions detonating in the distance. He stops three-hundred or so meters from the action, flips on his helmet's low-light vision, sets his pack down, and rests his Brush Gun on top of his pack before peering into the scope. Through the sight, he could see the chaos unfolding at the compound's checkpoint.

A bunch of men in black uniforms and metal helmets were inching closer and closer to the gate as they were supported by an armored vehicle with a manned turret up top. The U.N. soldiers were taking cover wherever they could, mainly behind the burning wrecks of their own vehicles, and tried their best to return fire. There was machine gun fire emanating from one of the pillars/watchtowers, but that ended as an RPG blew the pillar up and turned it into rubble.

"Damn it," the Courier cursed under his breath as he concentrated one eye through the scope. "Where is he?"

The sight of a brown stetson finally caught his eye, as Jesse McCree came into view and was carrying a wounded U.N. soldier over his shoulder with his robotic arm, periodically firing back with his revolver. Nathan saw one of the Talon soldiers closing in with his rifle. Operating the lever, he lets off a .45-70 round and watches as it cuts through the air and throws the man back in a red mist. He repeats the process, making sure to take out the ones who were getting too close to McCree and the others, making sure to aim for the upper area of their torsos to guarantee the kill. A burst from the armored vehicle causes him to peer up at the gunner, who is encased in a cage of metal protecting him from small arms fire. However, there was a pane of glass, a viewing port for the gunner to peer through.

Seeing this, Nathan pushes the lever forward and ejects the round from the chamber as his hand goes to the bandolier around his waist. He pulls out a cartridge, one with a silver-colored, pointier tipped bullet. He slides it into the chamber and slams the bolt home before he shoulders it and brings his eye to the scope. He still sees the machine gunner and his relentless fire, the convoy now closer to the defending band of soldiers. He lines his crosshairs up with the pane of glass, steadies his breathing, and squeezes the trigger. The register of the gun was louder and brighter from the previous round he used, even throwing off his view as the recoil was more pronounced. As he follows up, though, he knew he hit his target as the glass was cracked, the turret upturned, and the barrel was quiet. Nathan smirked, but that went away as another RPG flew and detonated much closer to the group. He grabbed more rounds from his bandolier and loaded his rifle with much haste before he felt the magazine was full and operated the lever with a resounding  _kerchunk_. His scope scans the foliage, trying to find the RPG. He soon laid his crosshairs on two red eyes on a dark silhouette, holding a large cylindrical shaped object and a cone-shaped object in his other hand.

"Found you, asshole," he muttered under his breath as he let loose another .45-70 round, this time meant for the warhead. He knew he made contact when an explosion went off on the attacking side, even harming a few near the blast.

He brought his rifle to the front of the attackers, who were now forced to take cover behind their armored vehicle. Noticing movement up top, the Courier brings the scope upwards to see that the machine gunner was now replaced with another operator and the barrel was pointed directly at him.

"Shit!" he cursed as he dives to the side and narrowly avoids a barrage of machine gun fire as he tumbles into a ditch.

He gets up, dazed, and shakes his head a few times to get the sand off. He then hears jet engines in the air and he looks up, expecting to see that black ship but instead sees something small flying through the air: a person. They were in a set of blue armor and had a helmet the shape of a falcon's head. It also had winged jet engines on its back. Their orca dropship was tailing it but stopped as it hovered closer to the ground and closer to where Nathan was. The ramp lowered and out came Dr. Ziegler in her "angelic" form, literally flying up to the Courier.

"Nathan!" the blonde yelled, concern ever present in her voice. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said, waving off any assistance. "Where the hell is Amari?"

"You didn't see her? She was flying in front of the dropship."

"That was her?!"

They then began to hear more explosions going off in the distance, but they went off after another in a rhythm, as if there were fired constantly.

Wasting no time, Nathan brought out his carbine and ran off into the distance, Angela running after him. It was not until they closed the distance and were now in the thick of it. Fareeha was flying overhead, sending down rockets onto Talon operatives as she evaded their fire, especially that of the vehicle's turret. As soon as they came into view, Nathan let loose a hail of gunfire on the goons. Angela ran over to where McCree and the U.N. troops were, Caduceus Staff in hand.

"What took y'all so long!" the Cowboy said with a dumb grin on his face before stray gunfire forced him to hunker down. "You were gonna miss out on the fun!"

"Shut the fuck up!" the Courier screamed as he ran to their cover, returning fire all the while.

Despite the heavy fighting, they had managed to thin the numbers of the assault group but were far from done. As Nathan kept the pressure on, he spotted another RPG off into the distance getting ready to send off a warhead. He hovered his crosshairs over the man but was met with a click instead. He cursed himself again as he discarded the empty mag and loaded in a new one. Bringing the rifle up to bear just two seconds later, he peers through the scope and sees that man instead on the ground, convulsing for some reason.

"What...?" he muttered, noticing how he was reacting the same way someone reacts from Radscorpion stings.

"Rocket barrage incoming!" he hears the Egyptian soldier yell and he watches in awe as panels on her suit open up and let loose a flurry of small rockets that bombard the armored vehicle that pestered them for so long. The machine smolders and explodes and its munition spark off like firecrackers. The occupants are gone.

Fareeha landed back on the ground with a thud in a crouched form, her fist planted into the dirt. It was quiet, for once.

Angela, Jesse, and Nathan soon joined her in the open space, looking over at the carnage of the battle.

"Damn," the man in the stetson muttered before he wiped his brow of sweat. "This life's never unevenfu-"

"Shh!" the woman in power armor silencing him. "Something's coming..."

When she said that, they remained quiet until they noticed a guttural noise coming closer and closer, sounding like a vehicle. But much larger.

Before they knew it, the walls of the checkpoint cave in as a large mass of metal and treads burst through it. A thin barrel was pointed at them as infantry spilled in from doors on its sides. It was a damn Infantry Fighting Vehicle.

"Damn it..." Fareeha muttered. "If only my team was here sooner..."

_"_ _I've got you in my sights!_ _"_

Three fast flying objects radiating blue slammed into the side of the IFV and blew a large crater into the vehicle and threw around the men unlucky enough to be on that side. The ones who were still standing were cut down by blue bolts of energy coming in at high velocities. The others took advantage of this surprise as Fareeha jetted into the air to launch rockets down below, and Nathan and McCree fired upon the remaining troops. It was then they started noticing some of their targets were being taken down before they even got a shot off, but it wasn't the time to think about it then. They needed to clear the area, first.

And that, thankfully, didn't take long.

The land was quiet once more, and it stayed that way. The only sounds being the labored breathing of those who had done the fighting and won, and the cracking of the fire from the smoldering wrecks of the vehicles, both U.N. and Talon. The four were taking in the scenery and appreciated being alive even more.

Amari breathed in deeply, before letting out a long, exasperated exhale as she was clearly tired from the battle. In all honesty, she was reveling in the silence that now surrounded her, and felt a bit more at ease that she had gotten what she needed with the help of her friends and a stranger.

Footsteps disturb her thoughts as she swiftly brings her rocket launcher to her right side, the others following suit with their own weapons. Before them, about ten meters away from them were two masked figure holding weapons. One was a hooded figure, covered in black and blue gear with armored plates around their body and a dark mask with blue lines forming an upside-down triangle at the center. The weapon they held was some type of sniper rifle if the scope was any indication. The other taller figure was clearly a man, his head full of shaggy white hair and the rest of his face covered by a black mask with a red eye. He was wearing a leather jacket that was blue at the sides and white on the chest, with red separating the two colors and black pants with a sidearm at the side and tactical boots. His red gloves were holding a mostly white and blue rifle but looked as heavy as an LMG if anything.

"Hey..." the Courier said, recognizing the man from earlier. "That's the guy from the wanted poster. That's-"

"Soldier: 76," Fareeha vehemently spat out. "The same man wanted by Helix for stealing  _that_ Heavy Pulse Rifle from Watchpoint: Mesa. I should place you under arrest!... But I have to ask; Why did you help us?"

The two figures exchanged glances, before looking back at Fareeha. A warm chuckle started to emanate from the hooded figure, it sounds old, worn, and feminine.

"Why else?" the hooded figure playfully asked. "To help out old friends, of course."

"You're no friends of mine," Fareeha coldly responded. "And I doubt your friends to them either..."

As the sniper slung her rifle, she placed her hands on her hips, trying her best to look frustrated as she shook her head.

"Do I really need to prove myself?" she asked, before shaking her head more and reaching up to her mask. "Fine, have it your way."

"Should you really be doing that?" the soldier next to her questioned, a hint concern in his gruff voice. "This could only make things-"

"Oh please, Jack, you knew it was bound to happen. Besides, you can't hide behind a mask forever."

"Wait," McCree said as he examined the exchange between the two, the similarities, and the sounds of their voices. "Jack?"

At that moment, the woman had finally lifted her mask to reveal a worn, dark-skinned woman with gray hair and an eyepatch on her left eye. There was also another detail on her face, one that was faint but could still be seen by the fire of the wrecked car. A tattoo on her good eye... The same one on Fareeha.

'Oh, shit _,_ ' Nathan thought as he put two and two together. 'Don't tell me she's her-'

"M-mother...?" Fareeha muttered under her breath.

'Great. Family drama. Just when I had enough on my plate…'

Then, the sound of small arms weaponry being locked and loaded interrupted the group out of their family reunion, as the surviving U.N. soldiers surrounded them and had their weapons pointed at them.

"Oh, come on!" McCree exclaimed, his hands rising to the air even with his Peacemaker still held. "We just saved your asses! Can't y'all cut us some slack!"

"I told you we shouldn't have done this," Soldier: 76 growled as he took a more aggressive stance, getting ready to fight.

The old woman only rolled her eyes before she addressed the one in charge.

"Surely you can let us off the hook, no?" she asked, rather courteously in hopes of swaying his mind. "We did save you after all."

"I know," the man said, rifle still leveled at her. "But I'm sorry ma'am. Under the Petras Act, we still have to arrest you."

Looking around and seeing they were practically surrounded, Nathan's left hand slowly crept up to his right forearm. One of the soldiers notice and levels his rifle at him.

"Hands up!" he commands. "Now!"

The Courier's glowing red eyes stare back at the man pointing a rifle in his face. He doesn't comply.

"No."

With a flip of a switch, the man in the duster vanishes, visibly startling almost everyone around him.

" _Was?_ "

" _Madha?_ "

"The hell?"

"Where did he go?!"

The soldiers then began to nervously swing their rifles about, their heads swiveling and trying to make out where he had gone. The others were still sort of being held up. Then, the sound of hissing air registered as a syringe dart from nowhere embedded itself into the neck of one of the soldiers, who winced at the pain but soon collapsed to the ground as the drugs took effect very quickly. It wasn't long until another dart lodged itself into another peacekeeper, and then a third, and then a fourth. Seeing this, the squad leader leveled the rifle at Soldier: 76 and placed his finger on the trigger.

"If you don't stop that right now," he yelled to the air. "I'm going to shoot him right in the-!"

The U.N. personnel didn't finish his sentence as an unseen force grabbed his rifle and swung it into the air, causing him to clamp down on the trigger and unload into the sky. Something then punched him, hard, and relinquished his grip on the weapon which was jammed into his gut before the stock swung across his face knocking the wind out of him. The others took this opportunity to retaliate as well, overwhelming the guards in their confusion and knocking them out. Even Angela used her staff with much finesse, taking the guard out before he even got the chance to fire his weapon. In the end, it was just the doctor, cowboy, soldier, sniper, and captain still left standing.

Then, the Courier reappeared before them as the cloak around him fizzled like electricity, startling the group once more, except for the Soldier and the Sniper, who only perked their eyebrows curiously.

"So, that's what that thing does," McCree exclaimed, looking at the piece of hardware on Nathan's right arm. "Could've used it earlier."

"Let's get back to the dropship," Fareeha commanded, bringing everyone's attention back to the situation at hand. "Won't be long until the authorities arrive. Let's double time it."

McCree, Ziegler, and Brin agreed and heeded as much, making their way back to where the dropship had landed. Fareeha was about to join them before she looked back at her mother and the soldier. So many questions and feelings were rushing through her head now. Many of them weren't pleasant, but she had a task at hand.

"As for you two," she began, catching their attention. "I'll leave the choice up to you."

She went off to catch up with the others, leaving Jack and Ana amongst the rubble. They both looked at each other, trying to find an answer they both could share.

"Do we really have to do this?" Jack asked, reluctant to follow them. "Overwatch died a long time ago..."

"Doesn't sound like the Jack I used to know," Ana remarked, her expression solemn. "We may be old soldiers, but it's always good to  _not_  fight alone."

* * *

The group, now back at the ship, had landed closer to the Temple of Anubis, where Fareeha's men were told to rendezvous after the business at Hakim's place. The same place where their mobile base was once stationed when she originally took back the temple with her team.

Fareeha, Jesse, Angela, and Nathan were waiting outside of the dropship, only the light from the cabin illuminating their presence in the dark. Nathan was smoking a cigarette as he looked over his pack and was doing an inventory check. However, Jesse also had a smoke of his own, taking drags from his brown cigar as the fiery tip illuminated areas of his face. Fareeha and Angela were standing next to each other, Fareeha still in her Raptora armor minus the helmet and Angela in her Valkyrie. The former had both a copy of the flash drive and Hakim's safe in her hands. Unfortunately, the safe took a stray bullet while it was in Nathan's pack and sounded like the contents inside were destroyed or shredded. Something valuable may still be in it, but it wasn't a guarantee. They'll find out eventually.

"So, your mother..." Angela hesitantly said, wary of the daughter's response. "I can't believe she's actually alive. For all these years."

"That makes two of us," Fareeha responded, but saying no more than that.

Angela could only but look up at the stern, blank expression on her friend's face.

"If you want to talk," the Doctor assured, placing a gloved hand on her armored pauldron. "You only have to ask."

"...Thank you," the Security-Chief croaked out. "But please, let's discuss this another time."

Nathan was watching their entire exchange, seeing the hard visage of the hard, military woman get downsized. All because of a long-gone mother. The Wastelander could only help but shake his head. He didn't know the full story between them but very well predicted it could only complicate things further.

The sound of jet engines rumbled through the air as Fareeha looked up and saw her squad flying overhead to her. They soon landed their boots on the ground, four of them, the one in front holding a stuffed duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He walks closer to Fareeha and salutes, Fareeha returning the formality before going at ease.

"It's good to see you well, Captain," he said, greeting her in their language. "And... I'm sorry my squad couldn't make it there. Helix brass held us up, wouldn't authorize us to leave the base. Again, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, Saleh," Fareeha reassured. "It wasn't your fault."

"Not answering my Captain's call to action is shameful. I still let you down even if no one got hurt."

"Well, you can make that up by taking this and bringing it back to high-command. Make sure our brothers and sisters didn't die in vain."

She gave Saleh the flash drive and the broken safe. He radiated a warm smile at the Captain with their prize, but that smile went away as he unslung the duffle bag and reached it out for her to take.

"And here's your stuff, Fareeha," sounding slightly saddened by what he just said. "You're really going to do it, huh? Going to join Overwatch after all this time? You know Helix isn't going to like this."

Before Fareeha could even respond, an older voice piped up from behind.

"What?!" exclaimed the older woman from where the dropship was, in Arabic. "Fareeha, are you seriously going to make this decision?"

Fareeha faced her, the faces of her squad contorting into that of confusion as they stared at the older woman.

"Fareeha, is that-"

"Yes,  _mother_ ," Fareeha responded sternly in English. "I'm making a decision for myself, for once. One I've wanted to make for a very, very long time. Even if you think otherwise."

The tension in the air thickened as Ana crossed her arms in front of her, never breaking her gaze from her daughter.

"Fareeha, I love you and I'm very proud of what you've done," she said earnestly in English as well. "But you will be throwing everything you've worked for by joining this new Overwatch!"

"I'm a grown woman, mother. I'm capable of making hard decisions. Have been for some time. I went through the academy. I went through Helix selection. I've undertaken missions and ensured my men get through the worst of it. I'm sorry, mum, but you can't stop me from fighting for what I believe in."

Deafening silence hung in the air as neither the Amari's refused to back down. Saleh and his squad fidgeted in their place, feeling their suits get hotter. Angela had her hands balled up and up to her mouth, her eyes awash with worry. McCree slack-jawed with his cigar and his stetson hovering over his eyes. And Nathan, now standing, taking much slower drags from his cigs then before, as his eyes darted back and forth between the women.

Then, back on the dropship, a red glove perched itself on Ana's shoulder, making her look back and regard the masked face of the soldier.

"She's got your spirit, Ana," he said. "Y'know you can't keep that down."

Ana stared at the red eye for several moments, before shutting her one eye and exhaled deeply. She looks back at her daughter who still has kept a solid visage.

"I only hope you know what you're doing, Fareeha."

With that, they went back into the cabin.

Soon, after saying goodbye to her squad, Fareeha and the others climbed up the ramp. The dropship soon flew away into the air, bringing them back home.


	11. Rest

"Arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar."

The AI chimed throughout the dropship's cabin as all six of the occupants could feel the aircraft shifting and slowing its descent in the air. Hearing the thrusters begin to power down and feeling the landing gears plant themselves firmly onto the landing pad. The ramp drops to the ground as Jesse and Angela are the first to climb down, still adorned in their uniforms. Shortly after, Fareeha and the two other "recruits" walk down, as well. They all stopped in their tracks and took in their surroundings under the dusk of the Mediterranean night sky. Fareeha tried to not break her solid composure but still could not help gawk at the Overwatch base she was currently standing in, after all these years. Ana, while not nearly as awestruck as her daughter, still looked around attentively with her good eye as a small smile graced her lips at the memories, at least the pleasant ones. And Jack... Well, it was hard to tell under that mask.

"I'd never thought I'd see this place again," Ana remarked as she slipped her hood off to reveal her cloud-white hair, catching the eye of Fareeha for a moment before she reverted her gaze.

"I could say the same thing about you, Ana," said the approaching voice of a smiling furry scientist. "Same about you too, Fareeha."

His smile slowly faded when he looked at the soldier in the leather jacket. "And I guess you, as well, Morrison."

Ana looked over the shoulder and back at the soldier he was addressing before turning her head forwards with a solemn expression on her face.

"You probably have a lot questions for us don't you, Winston?" the old Sniper asks.

"Yes, of course, thousands of them, in fact!" Winston stammers, the scientist unsure of what words he should formulate in his head before palms his face and lets out a deep sigh. "But not now, it's already getting late. How about you meet me in my lab, first thing in the morning? Still remember where your quarters are?"

"Maybe. I am old, after all."

Winston smiled warmly as he stepped to the side and let the two old soldiers be on their way and watched them walk off deeper into the facility. He turned around and addressed the daughter of the woman he just talked to. Fareeha stood at attention and saluted the ape, catching him off guard.

"You don't need to do that, Fareeha," Winston stated. "I'm not your Commanding Officer."

"Maybe not, sir," Fareeha said as she lowered her hand. "But you are basically commanding the new Overwatch, and I thank you for that."

"Well... You're welcome. You should rest up now. I'll have McCree guide you to where you can sleep."

And as the gorilla watched the Cowboy escort the soldier to her quarters, the Doctor came up to his side.

"Good work on the mission," Winston congratulated.

"Thank you, but we certainly couldn't have done it alone," Angela humbly admitted, wiping a loose bang away from her forehead. "Even if the help was a bit unexpected."

"I'd imagine... So, how did he do?"

Dr. Ziegler looked at the ape, deep in thought, before looking back at the shuttle and watching the dark, brown silhouette of Brin descend the ramp with his weapons and backpack in tow, and that helmet still upon his head. Walking past them without a second glance and further into the base. While his manners and behavior were rather "uncouth" at times, he had shown he was capable in both infiltration and combat. She doubted McCree would still be fine if it wasn't for him. That could probably extend to the rest of them if it wasn't for that "disappearing act" he pulled on the U.N. back there. If only the mission had given her some more opportunities to get to know the man better, have him open up and learn more than just a name from him. Maybe soon she'll get the chance.

"I'll give you my full report in the morning."

* * *

The door slides open and Nathan walks into the quarters graciously bestowed to him by Overwatch. The lights turn on by themselves and the door behind him closes by itself, as well. That's one key difference he noticed between this world and his; Everything seems to be automated. He wasn't complaining, but it might take him a while to get used to it before one of his appendages ends up getting caught in something by accident.

His room, now illuminated in all its glory, was not really anything special. It was a decently sized square space, with a blue sheeted bed on one side, a dresser at the wall adjacent to that, and a desk adjacent to that. To the right of the room's entrance was a door that led to a small bathroom with all the amenities: clean sink, clean shower, and even a clean shitter, too. The bedroom also had a window overlooking the Mediterranean, which was nice, he guessed.

Nathan looked at the bathroom before going over to the desk and placing his weapons on it and his pack on the floor next to it. He drapes his duster and bandoliers over the office chair and goes over to the dresser and starts undressing. The helmet, gauntlets, chestpiece, and holsters placed atop the dresser. Then, taking off his shirt, boots, and pants, he is in nothing but a pair of old blue boxers as he walks barefoot to the bathroom. He closes the door behind him to give himself some privacy and flicked on the clear and clean white light. Not a dimming yellow like back home. Leaning against the sink and looking in the equally clean mirror, Nathan stares over his almost naked form. The scars were still there, still aplenty, but he examined his shoulder and kneaded the spot where the screwdriver from days earlier had driven itself into - still clear of any damage. He reaches to his left arm, around to the back of his Pip-Boy. After pressing a few buttons, the hermetic seal of the gauntlet hisses as the mag-locks inside the gauntlet unlock, freeing his left forearm. Slipping the device off, it reveals unscarred and rather pale skin, juxtaposed with the dark and damaged tissue around. His fingers rub over the area, the sensation of his touch almost alien to the forearm. His eyes then drifted back to his own face, staring at his own brown orbs. The man had a blank, deadpan look on his face, just staring at his own visage.

"What are you fuckin' doing?" the Courier asked himself, watching his own head shaking side-to-side. "What did you expect to get from putting yourself out there?"

His face became more rigid, the expression hardening as he leaned closer to his reflection that he was fogging up the part where his mouth was shown.

"Are you really going to kill yourself for a group of strangers? You never had to fight for them, yet you chose that path... How foolish are you?"

He was gritting his teeth now, hacking ragged and uneven breaths from his mouth as he glared at himself.

"Do you honestly believe you will win from this situation? They're probably just exploiting you. Wouldn't be the first time. Why do you even want to go back? To that  _hellhole_. Do you genuinely think that they care about you? Want to you come back? They don't even know you're gone."

Nathan just kept staring at the Courier, feeling the pressure bubble up inside of him as he held his breath. Suddenly, he exhales as if he has been holding it for years and breathes deeply before pinches the bridge of his nose.

"God fucking dammit..."

He finally climbs into the shower and was about to turn the knobs before he noticed there weren't any knobs. It was another one of those "screens" that had a digital slider with numbers next to it that indicated the temperature.

"Jesus," the Waster says, annoyed. "They love that shit, don't they?"

After doing some mental conversions in his head of Fahrenheit to Celsius, he plants his finger on the slider and raises it to a nice 40 °C as hot, but not scalding, water washes over him. It honestly felt lovely, especially with how much of a luxury hot showers were outside of NCR territory back home. Hell, water wasn't even guaranteed to be hot in California. Nonetheless, it felt good to just stand there and savor in all the heat like a lizard on a rock. Helping himself to the complimentary shampoos and soaps this bathroom had to offer, he washed off all the dirt and grime from the mission and before. Discolored water making its way down the drain. Showering for a long time until all the glass was fogged up and his fingers were getting wrinkled. Stepping out of the shower he grabbed one of the clean towels and dried himself off. He put his boxers back on and walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, with the Pip-Boy in tow. Going to his bag to retrieve a shiny object first, he practically flops onto the bed with a resounding moan of pleasure at how much better this was than the cell cot. Probably even better that the bed wasn't centuries old by this point, too. Slipping his Pip-Boy back on and rebooting it to link with him, he presses a button and a panel on the gauntlet breaks open and reveals a space for something to be inserted.

He holds up the metal square, a holotape, with a line of white tape plastered on it with the words "Bert Weedon Album" written on it with a black marker. Nathan puts the tape in, adjusts the volume to not garner unwanted attention, and selects the song "Lazy Day Blues" to play from the speaker. As the simple, catchy strumming of the guitar is soon accompanied by an equal simple drum, and then a woodwind, he laid his head back and stared at the ceiling as the song played. His eyes close as he was about to drift to sleep as the song was already halfway done... Until a knocking at his door broke him out of his trance.

"I can't catch a break, can I?" Nathan complained as he switched off the music and got off from bed to answer the door.

Opening it, he wasn't expecting to see Fareeha's mother. He also wasn't expecting to see her so casually dressed, wearing a black turtleneck and slim jeans. She still had the eyepatch.

"Ah, Athena said you were here," the older woman let out, before looking over his almost naked form. "I'm not interrupting something am I?"

"Miss Amari," Nathan kind of greeted, wary what she was doing here at this hour. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You can cut the formalities. I'm just here to set some things straight and make sure you understand what I'm going to say."

"You're going to threaten me, are you?"

"More or less."

As soon as she answered, Nathan let out a long sigh as he leaned against the frame of the doorway, crossing his arms over his muscly chest.

"Alright," he said, prompting for the woman to speak her piece. "What do you want to say?"

"I just wanted to say I don't trust you," Ana flatly stated. "And I don't think you belong in this new Overwatch."

"That makes two of us."

"And if anything happens to any of my friends here or my daughter -  _especially_  my daughter - and you happen to be connected in any way... I'll make sure you regret it. Understood?"

Nathan wasn't the least phased by the threat because he already understood the message. She may not be an imposing figure, but he'd be stupid to not see her as capable.

"Wasn't planning on making friends and I'm already used to this kind of procedure," the Courier responded, as casually as her. "Besides, your daughter doesn't even like me. So, yeah. You're crystal clear, ma'am."

Ana's eyebrows perked slightly as he scrutinized the man's form, noting how rock solid he was during the entire exchange. She doubted he was trying to put up some bravado to save face, but she had to give credit to the younger man.

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, but good," she said, a coy smile forming on her lips. "To be honest with you, it's refreshing to set things straight with a man who isn't immediately quivering, stuttering, or urinating himself."

Brin just shrugged. "As I said, I'm used to this where I'm from."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. It's- Well, I think you should ask the ape or Dr. Ziegler about it. Even though I don't think you give a shit."

"I might, now. Good night, Brin."

The older woman sauntered off into the hallway, Nathan watching her leave before he grumbled back into his abode and the door shutting behind him.

* * *

Mojave Wasteland, Nevada

2285

The sun was at its peak at noon as the search party consisting of a Ranger, Sniper, and Canine walked through the desert, with the Canine leading the crew as he sniffed at the ground periodically. It had been hours since they left Station Charlie and were currently at the valley where Vipers used to stage ambushes on traveler and traders using the road as a route until they were a taken down a notch. Still, they had to keep their heads on a swivel. Hopefully, that wouldn't be too hard with a 1st Recon Sniper/Spotter.

Their journey had been silent for the most part, the only real exchange between the two about what direction to go to or what they were expecting up ahead. Parmley didn't really mind the silence but knowing that he was traveling with one of Nathan Brin's esteemed companions gnawed at him as questions were festering in his mind. He didn't really want to bother the man and distract them from what they were doing, but a little conversing probably wouldn't hurt. They were going to work together, after all, so it was best to get familiar with him.

"So," Parmley started, glancing over his shoulder at the sniper behind him. "How'd you and Nathan meet anyway? If you don't mind me askin'?"

The sniper was silent at first, his eyes somewhat hard to gauge as his sunglasses. Parmley started to curse himself until Boone spoke up.

"I was in Novac and one night he decided to sneak up to my post when I was on watch, for whatever reason."

"How'd you tag along with him?"

"He did me a favor. And after that favor, I couldn't stay at Novac anymore, but he offered to tag along with him. So, that's that."

"What did he do?"

"He helped me find the person who sold my wife to the Legion."

Parmley froze and instantly turned around to face Boone with a shocked look on his face. Boone still had his deadpan look when he looked back at the Ranger.

"Wow, uhm, uh-" Parmley stammered, trying to formulate the words of his response. "I-I'm really sorry to hear that. I shouldn't have pried."

"You don't have to be sorry," Boone tried to reassure as he crossed his arms over his chest. "What's done is done. Alright? Now come on, we're burning up daylight."

With that done, they continued onto the path and were soon clear of the former Viper valley. However, they were now on the outskirts of the ruins of Nipton. The town stayed a ghost town after the Legion sacked it around two years ago, and while the flames have died down the remains and crucifixes warded off any settlers that dare try to make a home out of it. Not to mention, it already had a reputation before the Legion came around and put an end to their debauchery. Nonetheless, the group carried on, the time for mourning long past, now following the train tracks, and leading them South. Silence once again reigned between the two men and Parmley was much more hesitant to start a conversation with the 1st Recon trooper, afraid he'll unearth more details that should be left buried. Parmley started to see something on the horizon, but a voice from behind distracted him.

"How about you?" Boone asked.

"Pardon?" Parmley asked back.

"What's your story with Nathan?"

The ranger looked at the ground as he thought about that answer. It really wasn't something he could forget. It was the reason he became a ranger in the first place.

"You ever heard of Silverwood, in Caruthers Canyon?" he asked over his shoulder, seeing how the sniper responds.

"Maybe," was all Boone said.

"Well, it's an NCR settlement to the Southeast. Not far from here really. It was built around a silver ore mine so it attracted a lot of people. But there was this clan of tribals, the 'Sand Wolves'. They were mean bastards, killed anyone who wasn't one of them. Wasn't long until they asked help from the Legion to turn Silverwood into something worse than Nipton. The Courier was there, though, and if it wasn't for him and his friend I wouldn't even be here."

"Who was with him?"

"Some… Guy with an eyepatch and a hat. He was ginger and had this big ol' knife around his waist, and had armor around his green jumpsuit. Know him?"

For once, the stern visage on Boone's cracked as one of the corners of his mouth tugged slightly to the side. Though, it wasn't really a smile.

"Yeah," he said as he shook his head side to side. "I knew him. His name was Russell, and he was a Ranger and an asshole."

'Goddammit!' Parmley shouted in his mind. 'I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut!'

"But he was a good friend to Nathan, and I'm kinda glad knowing he was there to help you guys out. What did they do?"

"Nathan and Russell helped form a quote-on-quote militia. Really, it was just a bartender, a hobo, a hooker, a boxer, and... Me. I thought we were going to die that day. However, after we beat back waves of those Legion bastards and sent them running for the hills... Well, let's just say that explains why I'm a Ranger today."

"Nathan always does a lot of good. More than he wants to admit. I only wish he could see that."

Before they could delve further into their shared history, a bark from the front brought their attention to what was ahead and chased after the dog that was now barreling towards a Pre-war site. They soon found themselves at an old drive-in theater, where there were bodies strewn about everywhere. Some of the bodies belonged to raiders, but the others had crimson uniforms. Both the Ranger and Sniper got their weapons out and readied themselves as they walked into the perimeter. Scanning the horizon, they finally spotted where Cooper went and saw he was pawing at the ground next to a large, metallic object embedded within the concrete. Parmley didn't know what he was looking at, but Boone did.

"Damn it," he cursed aloud. "Of course, it has something to do with that thing."

"You know what that is?" the bearded man asked.

"Yeah, it's a Pre-War satellite made by a place called 'Big Mountain'. Apparently, some kind of facility with a bunch of advanced tech and this group of crazy scientists called the 'Think Tank'. I was with Nathan the night we found this thing."

"How do you know all that?"

"Nathan got too close to the thing and, I shit you not, disappeared in a bright blue light and got teleported to the facility."

The man in the western outfit could only gape at what he heard.

"...Yeah," Boone empathized with him. "I didn't know what to think when I saw it."

"How'd he escape then?!"

"He had a device that could teleport him to and back from Big Mountain. It could only work with the person holding it, though, so he always kept it to himself. And I guess something went wrong here."

They looked around once again at the corpses surrounding the satellite, some of them already decomposing and others being picked on by carrion eaters. The one closest to the satellite was a burned-up Legionary with a big super-sledge next to him, and Cooper whimpering and pawing at the ground in front of the Legionary, looking up at Parmley and Boone. A spark from the satellite startled them and caused them to look at the damaged console of the machine. Boone walked up to it and took a closer look, seeing on how malformed and broken everything seemed. He wasn't as handy or smart as Nathan, but he could tell it wasn't going to teleport anyone anytime soon.

"This needs to be fixed up first," Boone noted as he rose and faced Parmley. "Know anyone that could help?"

"Honestly?" Parmley said as his face scrunched up in thought. "I don't know anyone that could help us with this level of tech."

They were in a bit of a predicament. Their trail had gone cold, and that meant the precious time that could be used saving their friend was whittling away. With no other leads than one that involved advanced technology, they were out of their element. Though, Boone had a thought.

"I might know of a group that could help," the Sharpshooter explained, although hesitantly. "Technology like this is their specialty. Though, I'm not sure they would be keen on helping an NCR Ranger and Sniper. They might be keen on helping the Courier, though, as he's done a lot of good for them as he did for the NCR."

"Who?" the Ranger asked, curious who this group was.

"The Brotherhood."


	12. Relaxation

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe

2076

Angela yawned as she walked through the base to Winston's lab. The morning Mediterranean sun shined over her tired form, wearing a gray hoodie over a simple white tank top and a pair of plaid pajama pants with an orange and black theme. It was rather chilly in the mornings, especially with their proximity to open waters, which was why the sleepy blonde was using a hoodie. She was - for what seems like the umpteenth time - holding her holopad close to her, hugging it to her chest as she really did not trust her drowsy self to keep a firm grip on it. She spent all night, against her better judgment as a doctor, writing out the report of Nathan's performance and behavior during their mission to Egypt. While she did make notes on some of his antisocial behavior and rough attitude at times, she did make light of the assistance he provided for them during the mission, mainly him spotting out the young pickpocket and helping McCree despite the standing between the two. She also recounted the instance of him using some of the advanced equipment he had at his disposal, a "Stealth Boy" that Jesse had recalled, in subduing the U.N. soldiers. Cloaking technology like that would definitely be something Winston would be interested in, among others. All-in-all, Nathan didn't really do them wrong during the mission. Despite that, she did make a footnote in her report suggesting to at least have him be observed a couple more times in any future missions he'll be sent on. It's still too early to be outright giving tech to him, especially any of Overwatch's technology. They'll wait and see.

Angela had now entered Winston's messy abode, and not seeing him anywhere on the ground floor, went upstairs to see if the scientist was working at his desk. And he was, but in the company of Fareeha, Ana, and Jack all gathered around his desk. Fareeha being in a blue Overwatch hoodie she must've found, Ana in a turtleneck, and Jack just wearing his shirt and pants... With his mask still on.

" _Guete Morge_!" Dr. Ziegler greeted to the group. "I hope your nights were better than...?"

That was when she noticed they were all giving her stares of disbelief, at least that's what she could tell with Fareeha and Ana. The blonde looked at Winston to gain a semblance of what was happening. The Scientist had his arms folded over his chest and just shrugged, rather casually. Her eyes drifted upward and saw a holovid, one of her and Nathan in the interrogation room.

"I'm assuming Winston just informed all of you about..." the Swiss doctor paused to find the proper wording. "Nathan's  _origin,_  did he?"

"Yeah..." the gruff voice of Morrison drew out under his mask, though, she could sense a quizzical look under it. "You could say that."

"I see. Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

She walked up to Winston's side and handed him her holopad, all eyes still glued to her.

"Here's the report you wanted."

"Oh, thank you," the gorilla gratefully said as he took the pad in his larger palm, swiped a file onto his desk, and manipulated the hologram and saving it. "I'll make sure to be thorough with it."

Winston gave the pad back to her, and she was about to turn around to make an exit until he called out to her.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention!" Winston said as Ziegler turned around to address him with a puzzled look. "Nathan was actually here, earlier. He was asking for some tools he could borrow. Some paper, too."

"Really?" she let out, curiosity in her piqued. "What for?"

"I don't know, said he was gonna work on something I might make a use out of. Doing his 'end of the bargain' as he said. Thought to use my workshop even when I offered, though. Just thought you might be interested in knowing."

Indeed, she was, and an idea formed in her mind. Taking advantage of an opportunity given to her. In getting to know the Courier.

"Well, where is he?"

* * *

Nathan, now dressed more modestly in a loaned Overwatch shirt and his jeans, was hunched over the desk and writing notes onto a piece of paper, one of many, as there were other sheets with words, scrawled onto them. Some even had drawings on them, though, they were crude at best and weren't meant to be artistic. Next to the piles of paper was the disassembled structure of one of his Stealth Boy's, parts were neatly strewn about as a set of tools were placed next to the device, some of them borrowed. Next to that was an ashtray with a lit cigarette. Music blared throughout the room at a modest volume as the man was hunched over his desk working. The words "Big Iron" echoed from his Pip-Boy.

Brin started working on this around an hour or so ago. He sighed as he leaned back into his chair and ran his hand through his short, black hair. He grabbed the sheets of paper with writing on them and started to look them over, checking what he wrote.

Basically, he wrote down the specifications of the device; its manufacturer, its intended purpose, and its function. He also wrote instructions on how to safely disassemble and reassemble the device, and how to wear and operate it. However, the Waster felt something was missing as he read over the paper until some more information crossed his mind. Important information. He brought out a fresh piece of paper and set it down, bringing a pencil down upon soon after.

"Warning," he said aloud as he was writing. "Extensive use of the Stealth Boy and over-exposure to the 'stealth radiation' emitted by the device has been linked to symptoms like what is described in Schizophrenia, mainly paranoia, delusions, and hallucinations. However, these effects are most pronounced in..."

He paused, as he was certain that whoever would read this wouldn't know what a Nightkin is, nonetheless Super Mutants. And that would be another discussion he would rather not get roped in.

"... Certain 'subjects'."

"Mr. Brin?" Athena spoke out from the desk, appearing in a holographic flash in front of him.

"Jesus, ya gotta stop that!" he exclaimed in surprise, clutching at his chest.

"My apologies, Mr. Brin, but as per your request that I tell you when I inform someone who is looking for you, Dr. Ziegler is currently en-route to your room."

"What? Why?"

"I am afraid you have to ask her, as she is currently three-point-five meters from your door."

Scant three seconds after she said that a knock came at his door. Nathan leaned against the desk and tiredly rubbed his eyes before rising and going to the door. It slid open and revealed the Swiss Blonde holding two steaming coffee mugs.

"Ah,  _Guete Morge_!" she greeted with a smile. "How are you?"

The man looked at her and the coffee incredulously before he exhaled through his nose.

"I'm fine," he responded somewhat indifferently. "Athena told me you were coming."

"She did? Well, I hope I'm not intruding on anything. Coffee? Careful, it's hot."

Nathan took the cup in his hand, handling it carefully as to not get scalded on his palms. He brought it up to his nose and gave it a whiff, surprised by how pleasant the brown brew smelled. He looked at the blonde who was intently watching his actions before he turned around and walked to his desk and set the coffee down.

"So, what're you here for?" the Courier began.

"I just wanted to talk," the Doctor responded, going inside, and looking around his quarters. "Interesting music... Winston told me you were working on something."

At hearing that, Nathan rolled his chair to the dresser and filed through one of the drawers. He produced a familiar, circular metal object and rolled back to his desk, handing her the device. She looked at it rather quizzically as she sipped her coffee.

"That's a Stealth Boy," he started to explain, turning his back to her. "It's the same device I used to get the edge on those guys back at Egypt. Figured the gorilla would find a use for it."

"How does it work?" she asked, choosing to ignore how he addressed her friend.

"All detailed here," he replies, waving the pieces of paper in the air before setting it down. "You can read it if you want. Though, I honestly doubt that's why you're here. Why  _are_  you here, then?"

Angela was a bit taken aback by his accusatory question and tone he phrased it in. She figured he would be cold, though, just not so openly and bluntly.

"What?" Angela responded. "I just told you; I just want to talk."

"And do what?" the Courier just questioned further, turning on his chair to face her with a suspicious expression.

"What else? Just trying to get to know you, have a friendly chat."

Nathan just stared at her, his eyes slightly squinting as he scrutinized her form. Angela, likewise, did that same but not nearly as intently as him, and not nearly as suspicious, either. Just an attempt to empathize with him. She was getting a bit irritated by his attempts to avoid conversation but understood why he might be not very eager to open his mouth. These past few days haven't been the easiest for him to deal with, and he was still largely adjusting to everything. The bearded man exhaling brought her attention.

"Listen," the Courier said, neutrally. "I appr-  _Understand_  - why you're trying to do this. I just think you're wasting your time being here instead of anywhere else. Besides, I'm sure someone else in the base wouldn't mind conversing with the 'Good Doctor'."

"What makes you think that?" the Doctor asks, her brows furrowing.

"It's... I dunno. The less you know about me, the better, I guess. Better for both us, since I won't be here long."

"I disagree. You're going be living on this base for who knows how long, and you'll be stuck here with other people who know next to nothing about you or know only the strange information you told us. That's the case for Fareeha, Ana, and Jack. These may be the same people you will work and fight alongside with. Do you really want to be an outcast to them?"

"Why do you care? I've done fine by my lonesome, so far."

"Maybe, but I and most likely the others would probably feel much better knowing who this 'Courier' actually is. Not a stranger who we only ever see in that mask and coat. Put an actual face to who that is. Besides, do you even know anything about any of them?"

Nathan, once again, just stared at her as she cradled the steaming cup of coffee in her hands. He looked to the side, looking at the armor and mask situated on top his dresser. He let out another long sigh.

"I see your point," Nathan begrudgingly admitted as he looked back at the woman. "But what do you want to know? Specifically?"

"Well..." Angela hummed out as she went deep in thought about what to ask. "How about where you're from, for starters? You only ever said you were from California and that was it."

Nathan patted his thigh as he adjusted himself in his chair. Angela taking a seat on his bed across from his, getting ready to listen to whatever he had to say.

"I guess we'll start with that then..." the New Californian getting ready to tell a story. "Well, 'for starters' as you said, I'm from a tribal village, called 'Arroyo'."

"Tribal?" the Swiss woman questioned, her brows furrowing. "What do you mean by that?"

"After the war, plenty of groups that were isolated enough regressed, in a way. They started living off the land, hunting, and foraging for food, and grew fairly humble settlements. Hell, they even develop their own languages and culture if they've lived far from civilization for long enough. Arroyo was different, however. We were descendant from a group of Vault Dwellers, people who lived long after the war."

"Vaults? You said they were large bomb shelters built by the US Government to protect its citizens from a nuclear war, right?"

"...  _More or less_."

Again, Angela noticed more odd mannerisms in the way he said that, prompting more questions in her mind. Though, she decided they had to stay on topic and not ruin the conversation they were miraculously having. Wanting to savor it with the decent coffee.

"So, what was it like?" she said, continuing the conversation. "Growing up in 'Arroyo'?"

"As I said, it was a tribal village, so I grew up learning what a tribal learns: Hunting, foraging, and fighting. But, we also lived with a group of Vault Dwellers, people from the same vault as our descendants, in fact. With the tech they had from the vault and the survival skills of the tribals, Arroyo went from being a village to a pretty prosperous city. Saw it all happen."

"Impressive! What about your parents?"

"Well, I grew up with my mother and she was the one who taught me most of what I know, with the help of some of the other tribals and the Vault Dwellers. I never knew my father, though. And before you do, please don't go into a tirade of how you're sorry and offering deepest condolences and all that petty bullshit, alright? Save your glass for someone who's crying."

Angela was a bit wide-eyed at that last statement, not expecting the usually blunt man to be more-so. At least he seemed honest, painfully so.

"Er-well," she stammered out. "I'm sorry if you'll excuse me for doing so... Do you at least know who he was?"

"... Not really," he answered, shrugging. "To the contrary of a person who ditches their child just when they were born, I've heard he wasn't really a bad person. He was well-liked, really. It was just that one day he decided to up and leave and say goodbye to the whole tribe. At least, that's what I got from my mother… What about you? What's your story?"

Before Angela could happily explain about her Swiss birthplace, a holographic image popped up from the desk and startled Nathan, causing him to say some obscenities.

"Dr. Ziegler," Athena called out. "Your assistance is needed at the landing pad. Agent Oxton's team has returned from their mission. It seems quite urgent."

"Tell them I'll be there," Dr. Ziegler as she got up from the bed and to the door. "Well, it looks like we'll have to wait next time until our next conversation. So, thank you, Nathan.  _Auf Wiedersehen_!"

Nathan watched as the blonde made her exit through the doorway and the door slid closed behind her. He slumps back in his chair before looking back at the work he was doing. He eyes the coffee cup, its dark and now warm liquid untouched. He reaches for the mug's handle and brought it up to his face. He sniffs it and brings the brim to his lips and takes a generous sip, savoring the liquid as it flows over his tongue. After gulping it down, he decides to take another sip.

* * *

Hidden Valley, Mojave Wasteland

2285

"Jesus Christ, I can't see fuck all!"

The search party had traveled well over a day to the site of Hidden Valley, where the Brotherhood was supposedly operating out of. They had reached the perimeter of the valley at night time and everything seemed to be okay, at first, until a huge and violent sandstorm enveloped the presence of the party seemingly out of nowhere. Their vision impaired by all the sand kicked up and blowing against their face, stinging with every grain of sand. Their hearing also impaired by the rushing of the wind surrounding them, not able to hear their own voices even when they yelled. Parmley had covered his face with his red bandana and sunglasses but they weren't optimal protection against the storm. Boone fared slightly better as he had a pair of trooper goggles to give ample protection to his eyes but still had nothing better than a bandana for his face. Cooper didn't have any such luxuries, so the poor pup would have to take the brunt of it.

"Do you know where we're going?" Parmley yelled over the winds. "I feel like we've been walking in circles!"

Boone didn't give an answer as he continued leading the group through the storm, his eyes set ahead of him for any sign of the shelter. Thankfully, after what seemed like an hour of leaning against the storm, the Sniper's eyes spotted a large mound-like structure in the distance. He squinted his eyes, tried the pick out the important detail he needed before the group could venture further into their quest. Then he saw it, the silhouette of a tree stump on the mound.

"There," the Sniper stated, finding the confirmation he needed.

The group of three double-timed it to the bunker entrance's metal door. Operating it and forcing it open, they all piled into the refuge and slammed the metal door shut, halting the storm. Boone began coughing up all the sand and grit his bandana failed to block from going in and Parmley kneeling next to Cooper, wiping away all the sand from the hound's face and eyes with his bandana.

Afterwards, the group descended the long stairway and found themselves in a large underground with crates, and another metal door with an intercom next to it. Boone went up to the speaker and pressed the button before he spoke into it.

"Ramos," he said to whoever would be listening. "It's me, Boone, and a couple others with me, too. I'm here to speak with McNamara. It's about Nathan."

There was nothing but radio silence and static. After a couple of moments, however, the intercom came to life.

"I've informed the Elder that you're coming. Unlocking the door now. Don't cause any trouble, please," a monotone, firm voice spoke through.

The metal door slid open of its own volition and permitted the three to walk in. They were immediately greeted by the sight of two Brotherhood Paladins in T-51b power armor - one wielding a Gatling Laser and the other a Gauss Rifle - at guard posts that were on either side of the main bunker entrance. Parmley tensed up at the sight of this, and even though there was currently a treaty between the NCR and Mojave Brotherhood, it was more of them tolerating each other with an armistice than a friendship. Boone didn't really care as he just walked ahead without a worry up to the entrance with the Ranger and Canine in tow. He regarded both guards with simple nods, the Paladins returning the gesture in their hulking armor.

They made their way deeper into the installation, Parmley being forced to follow Boone as he was in a completely different environment; He treks through the wilderness, not old Pre-War bunkers. The young Ranger couldn't help but stare in awe at his surroundings, the advanced security systems, the meandering patrols in power armor, and the random people in those skin suits. He couldn't help but notice they were getting stares of their own, but they seem more directed at him than the Sniper.

"They don't get a lot of visitors, do they?" he muttered low enough for only Boone to hear.

"Some," the Sniper measly answered, remember where to go by memory. "Special cases, really."

Boone only led them deeper into the second level of the bunker and taking them down to a dim hallway. The hallway led to a doorway that was guarded on either side by another set of Paladins, both with Gauss Rifles and in the middle a raised platform a circular command desk in the middle. Sitting at that desk was a white-haired man in dark robes, emanating an aura of command and intellect as the three-walked in. Parmley could only guess who he was, and that was someone rather important.

"Ah, Mr. Boone, I see you've brought some guests," the Elder said, sounding surprisingly welcoming with his words as if speaking to an old acquaintance. "How can I assist you?"

"Don't know if you know this or not, but the Courier's gone missing," the Sniper said with a serious and deadpan tone. "And we think it may involve advanced tech, things we know nothing about."

"I see. Are you certain that he is really missing?"

"For starters, he never leaves this dog's side and nor does the dog. Second, he led us to a Pre-War satellite and they were bodies everywhere, Legion especially. Why else would the beaten Legion send a group so far into the territory to just die around some tech?"

McNamara's visage became thoughtful, a definite hint of concern growing on his face. He did a good job of masking it, for everyone's sake.

"This is troubling news," he remarked. "So, why have you come to the Brotherhood?"

"I already told you, it involves advanced technology," Boone said. "Something you could possibly help us with."

"What exactly does this technologically accomplish?"

"Well, I don't know the specifics of it, but I'm pretty sure it involves teleportation."

The room became silent when he uttered that last word, McNamara's calm visage breaking with his brows furrowed and mouth held slightly agape, and even the Paladins just stared at Craig under their helmets.

"Even if I had anyone capable of understanding what you just said under my ranks," the Elder said with disbelief ever present in his voice. "I, regrettably, cannot spare you any assistance."

"What?!" Parmley spoke up, once again becoming irritated with being denied help. "Why not?!"

"As much as I would like to assist the Courier, I have received word from the NCR at Camp McCarran, not so long ago, to be put on high alert of a possible threat. I have already dispatched a couple squads before we spoke."

To both the Ranger and the 1st Recon Sharpshooter, this was news. They never received word of anything of a "threat" from their posts. Nonetheless, something to put the Brotherhood on high alert.

"Why?" the Ranger questioned, suspicious of what he meant. "What threat are you talking about? Legion's too weak and drowning in their own set of problems back east, and raiders are almost wiped out or too scared to come out."

"I am unfortunately not at liberty to say," McNamara barely answered. "But, I refuse to leave a friend of a friend empty-handed. I can spare any weapons or equipment you may need for your search."

"I don't really see how that can help us find him..."

"That's not all, I do know of someone who could help you with this technology. A good friend of Nathan, I'm sure Boone knows her. Go to the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside and ask for a woman named 'Veronica'. With Boone at your side and your news of the Nathan Brin's disappearance, she may be more than willing to help. You can stay here for the night if you wish."

Boone and Parmley exchanged looks, mostly of skepticism, but hopefully, things will turn out for the better once they find this other friend. They've already come this far, might as well not squander what's been given to them.

"Thanks for the offer, Elder," Boone said. "But we have to be on the move as much as possible. We'll help ourselves to some of that gear, though."

"Then so be it. I hope you succeed in finding our mutual friend," Elder McNamara wished, giving them a warm and friendly smile in the dim light.

The search party left the Elder's sight, possibly on their way to see the quartermaster to gear-up before leaving the bunker. McNamara then heard the approaching footsteps of armor walk up to him, and he turned to address his hulking Head Paladin, Edgar Hardin.

"So, the Courier's missing, huh?" Hardin said, recounting what he heard from their conversation. "And advanced tech is possibly involved? Do you think it would be wise to send a scouting party to see what they found?"

"No," McNamara simply stated. "With the possibility of a high-level threat and our numbers small as they are, sending another group of Brothers and Sisters chasing a hunch would be foolish."

Hardin regarded the Elder, keeping his composure despite what his superior had said. The Paladin leaves the Elder's side.

"I see. Unfortunate. I wish they do well in their search, then."


	13. Socialization

Location Unknown

2076

In a dark, dim room in a facility hidden away from the world, a woman was typing feverishly at her "desk". Holograms of varying size and subject floated all around her, some disappearing and others reappearing at will. Even the "keyboard" she was typing on was a just a collection of purple octagonal shapes grouped and strung together, a pattern practically alien to anyone but very familiar to her. In front of her was a particularly large holovid, security footage from a compound somewhere in a desert. It showed soldiers with U.N. colors engaging in combat with Talon foot soldiers, but they were not the only combatants. A man in a red poncho, a woman in an angelic suit, and a soldier in blue power armor were also present in the fighting. The infamous "Soldier: 76" and the "Shrike" were seen at the end. She cared little about any of them. The hacker already had a good idea of their secrets.

It was the man with the red eyes and duster that had her interest.

She scoured through all the databases she could access, pulling up all references and details she could to link to this man, if he even was a man. Even after going through what seemed like a million holoscreens, there was nothing palpable she could unearth. The only information she could find pertaining to the weapons he used - long outdated models so out of place in the late-21st Century - and that  _thing_  on his wrist. The fact she could find nothing on it did not make her more frustrated, on the contrary, it made her more curious. Curious as to how this man has apparently stayed off the grid for so long, something so few people are able to achieve in this world. At least, successfully. Certain ideas started to develop in her mind, certain prospects that could prove to be beneficial. Just needed to set up a connection first.

She didn't realize how enamored she was with the images as she blankly stared at them until the door to her quarters opened and let in a ray of uninvited light.

" _¡Maldita sea!_ " she angrily exclaimed in Spanish, blinded by the doorway. " _Nunca tocas la puerta, ¡¿Reyes?!_ "

The cloak and bone mask didn't respond, simply staring at the tan-skinned woman in the purple tank top and jean shorts. One side of her head shaved and with glowing purple strips of light that rang along the side of her head like circuits. After a few moments of this impromptu staring contest, the woman just rolled her eyes and went back to her holoscreens. The back of her top revealing some of the skin on her upper back with metal objects glowing purple grafted to it. Almost looking like an external spinal cord.

" _No importa..._ " she muttered, manipulating more octagons with her luminescent hands. " _¿Qué tal?"_

"What were you able to extract from the footage?" the man asked in English, walking up to her holographic workstation.

"Nothing we don't already know _._  Your 'old friends' are still doing their thing, and Overwatch is back to saving the world, as usual."

"What about the man?"

Her face scrunched up as the Reaper mentioned him, and annoyance graced it.

"Wasn't able to find anything about him," the Latina hacker explained, grabbing a holoscreen like a piece of paper with her luminescent gloves, glowing nails extended from the tips of her fingers. "He did match the description you gave; tall, somewhat heavy build, and he did have that blocky wrist thing you mentioned. But other than that...  _Nada._ "

"Are you certain?"

" _Oh, por favor,_  I practically scanned through every government and security database, and I didn't even find any references or records relating to his armor or his gauntlet. It's either custom-made, or this guy found a way to be completely off the grid. Looks like you're not the only ghost around. Huh,  _viejo?_ "

The Wraith only grumbled at this news, his coat swishing as he turned around and made his way to the door.

"Notify me when you find anything useful,  _Sombra_."

* * *

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

It had been a couple of days since the Courier's first mission with Overwatch and things have been relatively quiet on the base for the most part. There were some new faces around Gibraltar that the Wastelander couldn't be particularly bothered to get to know. He didn't entirely confine himself to his room, though.

Nathan was sort-of active, visiting Winton's lab to borrow tools, drop tools off, or to give him a piece of tech from his world. Really, it was a schedule he put himself on and he tolerated it. It wasn't terribly exciting, and that was both good and bad. Often, however, he found himself staring outside the window of his quarters and towards the Mediterranean Sea. A clear, blue ocean with an equally so sky above it, but peppered with some blotches of white and a bright, but merciful Sun hovering over it. The image made Nathan feel kind of complacent. He didn't entirely like it, though. Being sedentary, inactive in one place for even more than a day felt...  _Odd_. Something didn't feel right about not having his boots on dirt, rifle in his hand, hiking at a generous pace, and hot air enveloping his body. It only made getting back home more of a priority, though, he had to find his ticket. And he didn't know when that would happen.

Nathan just got more annoyed by mulling in his seat and growled as he rubbed his forehead. He had to go out and find something to do.

"Athena," he called out, garnering a response from the AI as she appeared at his desk.

"Yes, Mr. Brin?" Athena asks, willing to help.

"Does this facility have a bar?"

* * *

"Hahaha, you must tell me more of your exploits!" boomed a large man walking down the hall, hugging with one arm Ana in a blue coat and her trademark eyepatch, and in the other, Brigitte in her plain, white tank top and red pants. "We have much catching up to do!"

"How about we talk more over a drink?" Ana suggested with a lighthearted smile on her face. "I'm sure I owe you plenty."

"But of course, my friend! What about you, Brigitte?"

The brunette playfully shrugged.

"Eh, sure," she accepted. "Helping  _p_ _appa_  keep this base in check Twenty-Four-Seven is exhausting. Would be nice to relax."

So, the group made their way to the Watchpoint's bar, one of them ecstatic to share his tall tales and other just relieved to have a breather. As they entered the usually empty bar, however, they weren't expecting to see the New Californian sitting at the bar counter and helping himself to a glass of a caramel colored liquid over ice. He paid the group who had just entered no mind as he was just enamored with that computer on his wrist, sipping away at the glass. He didn't even sense the lion of a man approach him as he walked up to the bar top.

"Ah, the  _Ödländer_  graces us with his presence," Reinhardt announces to signify their arrival. "Have come to get yourself a drink, no?"

Midway through a drink, Nathan rotates on his stool and looks up at the man to give him a quizzical glower, then lowering the drink from his mouth but still retaining that look. As if he was perturbed by being disturbed with his drink. A second later, air escapes his mouth as he rotates back into place and brings the glass up to his lips.

"Why else would I be at a bar drinking Scotch?" Brin asked rhetorically, shaking his head as he looked down at the liquid.

"Well, would you be willing to have a drink with us?" the German asked. "We have tales to share, and I'm sure you do, too."

The Courier perked an eyebrow and looked at Reinhardt and that prideful demeanor he had on him, and back to Brigitte and Ana, the latter being watchful of their entire conversation with her one eye. He thought about the invite, contemplating the choice he had. He came to the bar with the intention of drinking, though.

"Thanks for offering to listen to me jaw for a while," he said, the smell of alcohol pervading his breath. "But I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

As the others gathered their drinks and went to occupy a booth for their activities, Nathan was left alone to his thoughts and relative silence. He would be lying if he didn't say he already felt better being here, nuzzling a drink close to him. Relishing in the solitude. Until something decided to break it.

"Well, butter my ass and call me a biscuit," uttered a Western drawl as a McCree took a seat right next to Brin, for whatever reason, setting his hat on the counter. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Expect to see me anywhere, Cowboy?" Nathan asked seriously, almost derisively. "Figured you wouldn't care."

Jesse didn't respond as he grabbed a bottle of liquor, the bottle Nathan was helping himself to, and two shot glasses, pouring half-and-half in both. He then produced another bottle of a liquid that was darker in complexion than the Scotch and poured it into the shot glasses until they were full. He grabbed one of them by the brim and planted it directly in front of the man next to him, thumping lightly on wood. The recipient's brow furrowed as he turned his head to address the man.

"What's this for?" he asked as he picked up the shot with his index finger and thumb, bringing it up to his eyes.

"For savin' my ass with that fancy shootin'," Jesse explained as he picked up his shot. "Now, I ain't saying we got to be 'BFF's' or all 'mushy-gushy', alright? Just showing some appreciation."

The Cowboy was straight, to the point, and earnest in his explanation for this olive branch. The Courier liked that.

"Hmm... Fair enough," he states as he held up his glass to McCree. "Cheers."

Both their shots clink, and they both throw their heads back as they down the contents of their glasses. Nathan clicks his tongue, trying to savor the after-taste, a surprisingly pleasant one.

"Huh, not bad," the Waster remarks, feeling it burn down his gullet.

"Glad to hear it," the Cowboy responds. "Want some more?"

"Sure. How 'bout one of them cigars, too?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, pardner."

That uttered a short laugh from Nathan as he watched Jesse pour another shot for him.

"Though," McCree started, passing him his drink. "There is one thing I gotta ask. Been gnawin' at me ever since you got here."

"What?" Brin asked, downing his other shot before he goes back to his glass of Scotch.

"The hell's with those fingers and the ear you had in your pack? You don't have some sick collection, do you?"

"Oh, those? Nah, those are just used to identify people with bounties on their heads."

"They're used to claim bounties? Huh, that's interestin'."

"It's also easier than carrying severed heads."

McCree gave the bounty hunter both a look of mild shock and disgust, before looking at his shot glass and deciding to pour himself another shot. Nathan started to fill his glass with more nectar of the gods until that got interrupted.

"Mr. Brin," Athena announced over the speakers. "Please report to Winston, he has something to brief you on."

"Can't even get drunk in peace in this place," Nathan complains as he takes a generous gulp of his drink before he gets off his stool. "Later, McCree. Thanks for the shots."

Slightly inebriated and the smell of alcohol radiating off his breath, he made his way to Winston's and, fortunately, didn't take long in doing so. He had reached the inside of the ground floor and saw no one, yet, he heard a ruckus from upstairs. A  _British_  ruckus.

Nathan started to crouch low to the ground, hugging to the rail as he snuck up the stairs. He could see the light shining from the office and could see the Gorilla and Brit's exchange, with the latter going off on a rant while the former sat there, with an irritated look on his face.

"-honestly believe it's a good idea to have him and me on the same team? Are you daft?" Lena exclaimed, concern and annoyance apparent in her tone. "If anything, that oaf will jus-"

"Lena, you're clearly overreacting!" Winston stated, trying to calm down his friend. "And this is meant to be a safety precaution since you barely made it out alive from your last mission. Besides, the report Angela gave me about him was generally positive and iterated how capable he could be."

"I'm not saying Angel is talking out of her arse, but why him?"

"Yeah. Why me?"

They turned around, wide-eyed, to see the man of the hour behind them and with his arms crossed over his chest and giving them both glares. Lena, likewise, returned the expression. Winston fidgeted in the moments of silence that permeated between the two until cleared his throat and bring back all focus of the conversation back to him.

"I-uh-see that you came at my request," he stated, trying to speak through all the hostility in the air. "Good, I called you here to brief you on a mission that you and Lena will have to undertake in Britain. I'll send someone else along as well."

"That still doesn't answer what I, or she, asked," Nathan noted, his demeanor unchanging even with alcohol flowing through his system. "If Ms. Oxton is so opposed to me even being on the same team, why me? Why not anyone else?"

"As I've said countless times before, we're stretched thin as it is. With the skills you possess, you and Lena may be the right choices to have for this mission. Also, Talon may once again be behind whatever is brewing in 'King's Row'. It could lead you further to finding your ticket back home."

"Any other reason I should come along for this deployment?"

"Well, it may require more 'brute force' than your last mission. So, it could be right up your alley."

"Hmm... I'll think about it."

Lena scowled at Nathan as soon as he said that before she addressed Winston with an earnest expression.

"I hope you know what you're doing, love," she worriedly wished to her furry friend.

She looked back at Nathan and stuck her tongue out at him before she blinked out of the room, leaving them in a blue flash. The tall man only looking back and shaking his head.

"She really doesn't like me, huh?" he asks, despite knowing why it was like that.

"I guess. Kinda surprised actually," the Gorilla explained, seemingly befuddled as he scratched the back of his head. "Could never expect someone like her to hold a grudge like this."

"Right... So, ' _report_ ', huh?"

"Uh, excuse me?"

Nathan turns around and gives Winston accusatory glare, his brow furrowed and his lips thinning.

"You mentioned Angela writing a report about me," he recalled from their exchange. "What is  _that_  about?"

"Oh! U-uh, well..." Winston stuttered, trying to come up with a response that wouldn't anger the man too much. "Angela... Had concerns about our deal and handing over technology to you. That she, understandably, thought you would misuse in any way. So, I asked her to accompany you on the mission you were sent on to Egypt and observe you and give a report to me once you came back."

"…And?"

Winston tried to put on a wide smile, "The report was, uh, generally favorable!"

Nathan cocked his head to the side, ignoring the positivity he was trying to feign, "What if it wasn't?"

"Then I, uh, would've had to restrict the level of technology you would've had access to."

Nathan just stood there, his expression unchanging as he sighed and reached behind to his back pocket. Winston seized up, getting ready to take drastic action, but he settled down almost immediately as he sees the man pull out a pack of cigarettes, pop one into his mouth, and bring that shiny lighter of his to the tip and setting it aflame. He takes a long drag from the stick and takes it out of his mouth to blow a large cloud up in the air inside, before sticking the cigarette back in. The gorilla could smell the tobacco from where he was.

"Next time you make a deal," the Courier says, turning around to leave. "Don't keep your client in the dark. That's a good way to lose one."

"I-I'm sorry..." Winston tried to apologize but got no response from the man as he was soon out of sight.

* * *

Freeside, Mojave Wasteland

2285

The Northern Freeside Gates lurched forward and croaked out a grating metal noise, opening to the trio that trekked through the desert for almost two days, making the sight of Vegas proper was a welcomed sight. Or, at least the territories surrounding Vegas proper seem as such. In hindsight, they regretted not taking up the Elder's request to at least rest up at the bunker before heading off to Freeside, but they did make sure the time they spent was not wasted. Besides, it wasn't like they weren't used to making such long trips on foot. Boone and Cooper, especially, regarding their times with their mutual friend.

They stepped into Freeside, looking around and taking it in for what it was: a shithole. Parmley stopped to look around with his tired eyes and let out a bemused huff as he took in the less than pleasant scenery. Boone paid no mind to it, having been dragged through this slum multiple times.

"So, this is Freeside?" the Ranger asked, not sure what to think of the new surroundings. "Honestly don't know what I expected."

"It ain't too bad, at least now," Boone remarked as he looked around. "Nathan did a lot of good for this place, too. For the Followers. For the Kings. Hell, even some barkeeps are indebted to him."

"Still looks like a slum, though."

"Trust me, it was worse before Nathan came along and the Followers, Kings, and even NCR started whipping this place into shape, or as best as they could. Speaking of the Followers."

In his sight were the brick wall and wooden gate of the Old Mormon Fort, the Follower's base of operations for their Mojave branch. In a place full of dilapidated buildings, crumbling rubble, and piles of refuse, the Fort was, almost automatically, the diamond in the rough for many. It was also where they might find theirs.

The centuries-old wooden gates creaked and groaned as they pushed it inwards to let themselves inside. They immediately spotted Followers, guards, and patients all roaming about to wherever they were needed inside the perimeter. Things seemed busier than usual. However, Boone narrowed his sharp eyes trying to pick out one person from the crowd, the one who could point them in the right direction.

"Boone?"

He seemed to work too hard, that time.

Turning around he sees the surprised look of a woman in a white Followers coat and a very prominent mohawk atop her head.

"Farkas," he greeted, with a smirk on his face. "Long time, no see."

"Same," the administrator warmly returned. "Who're your friends?"

"This Ranger's Parmley."

Parmley tips the brim of his hat to the woman.

"And this here's Cooper."

Cooper enthusiastically barks, wagging his tail all the while.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," she said before she raised her eyebrows when she noticed something missing. "Where's Nathan?"

"Er-well, that's what we came here for, ma'am," Parmley explained. "We actually have reason to believe the Courier's gone missing."

"What?" she asked, shocked and afraid what that could mean. "That's awful! Are you sure?"

"That's why we're here, Julie," Boone stated. "We were told Veronica was here, do you know where she is?"

"Yes, of course. Follow me."

Leading them through the crowds, they four found themselves at the entrance of a tent that was for some reason had two Kings on the outside. Julie told them something, prompting them to look at the entourage behind her before one nodded at the woman and gave them the okay to enter. They all filed in under the tent flap, their eyes adjusting to the darkness before they can finally see who else was inside. They see a man in a crisp white suit and a black undershirt, watching a woman in a white coat like Julie's work on something metal. Parmley couldn't believe it, but it was a metal dog.

"Veronica," Julie announced. "A friend's here to see you."

"Julie," the girl let out as she sighed and got up to face them. "Y'know I don't like it when people interrupt..."

Her face, now revealed to be light in complexion and short black hair on her head, was now in shock as she gazed upon the man in front of her. One of the few friends she made in the Mojave. Boone couldn't help but smirk upon seeing her as well, after what seemed like ages.

"Hey, Vero- oof!"

The 1st Recon Sharpshooter almost lost his balance as the former-Brotherhood Scribe crashed into him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, her face burrowing into his shoulder deeper than a Molerat. He could only chuckle as he returned the favor and wrapped his arms around her, and for a few moments, the worries that plagued him for the past few days seemingly disappeared and all felt right in the world. A shame their mutual friend wasn't there to see the reunion

"Heh," Parmley let out, watching the scene unfold. "Ain't that sweet?"

"Aroo?" Cooper responded, cocking his head as he watched the two.

Their exchange couldn't last forever, though, and Boone eventually had to let go and give Veronica some space so they could have a conversation properly.

"Hope I'm not interrupting something?" the Sniper asks, although it seems a bit late for that.

"No, no! It's..." she stammers before looking back at the man and the dog.

"It's fine, Veronica," the man said, an interesting cadence in his voice. "I'm sure Rexie can wait a bit, can ya' boy?"

"Woof!" the mechanical canine replies.

Veronica turns back to address their visitors, almost beaming at this point. Though, she felt like there was a reason for them being here.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asks.

"We have to discuss something," Boone answered, his demeanor quickly changing as he thought about what he was going to say next. "It's about Nathan."

After some more pleasant exchanges between the two friends, Boone and Parmley finally explain why they dragged themselves across the Mojave to find Veronica. Of Cooper being captured by the Legion, the bodies by the satellite, and McNamara pointing them here. Julie, Rex, and The King hang onto every detail and could only listen as the previously pleasant good feelings were now replaced with somber and worrisome thoughts. The Courier, the one who was practically a godsend to Freeside, missing? And missing due to some technology that was beyond them? Veronica, of course, had a hard time listening. Probably the hardest out of all of them.

"Oh, no…" was all the Scribe could mutter. "What did you get yourself into, Nathan?"

"Yeah..." Boone conceded. "More or less thought the same when I saw what he got himself into. So, you gonna help us?"

"I-I don't know! I just only got accepted into the Followers after scavenging in the dirt for almost four years, ever since we all parted ways after Hoover Dam, but I would do anything to save Nathan if he got himself in trouble. If I was there for him in Utah..."

Julie spoke up, kind and understanding in her tone, "Don't worry about us, Veronica, you've already done so much for us, even before you joined. It already seems like you're needed elsewhere, for now."

The Scribe looked at her boss and gave a thankful nod. Knowing she joined the right people.

"First, I need to finish fixing up Rex here," she stated, addressing the search party. "But as soon as I'm finished? Yeah, you bet your ass I'm coming."

"How 'bout you take Rex with you?" the King spoke up, bringing all attention onto him.

"Are you sure about that, King?" Veronica asks, a bit concerned at why he was just offering his dog like that. "What if he gets hurt?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine, especially with all of you. He's as much of a friend to Nathan as he is to me. And when he needs to be saved? Hmph, it's now or never, right boy?"

Rex couldn't really answer as he was too busy messing around with Cooper, the older dog still energetic after all these years.

"I guess that settles it," Julie Farkas observed, the leader of the Follower's Mojave branch smiling to see the search party assembled to find the Courier and couldn't think of a better person to recruit than Veronica. "I hope you all find Nathan and come back safe. Good luck!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to a real-life friend of mine for helping me with Sombra's Spanish. ¡Gracías, mi amigo!


	14. Rule, Britannia! pt. 1

King's Row, England, Great Britain

2076

A blonde woman in a beanie, a green vest over a yellow, and a black t-shirt that had a graphic of a robot with a heart-shape on its chest, crouched next to the damaged form of a metallic humanoid with a black flat cap atop his metal head, wearing a white tank top and beige shorts. They were in a dark corner of a cobblestone street, sounds of anarchy not too far from where they were. The woman tried what she could for the machine that currently had one of his arms severed and lying on the ground. Sparks flying from the severed socket. Nonetheless, she tried to console the severely-damaged machine best she could. At least being one source of human kindness for it.

"P-please go," the machine let out, an electronic voice weakly speaking even without the presence of a mouth. "It's not safe here anymore. You'll get hurt, or worse..."

"I'm not going to leave you here!" the good samaritan exclaimed as she placed a hand covered in knitted gloves over his shoulder. "I'll get you to safety. I promise!"

As she tried to help him, the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to spin around and see a group of five to seven men, all dressed in dark apparel and wielding makeshift weapons. They did not look like good samaritans.

"Oi!" yelled one of them, dressed in a dark hoodie and holding a crowbar. "The bloody fuck are you doing with that tin can!"

"Don't call him that!" she defended, despite feeling her blood run cold.

"Please go..." the machine urged once again, not wanting to have her harmed for merely being associated with him.

The group of men just laughed at her, getting closer to them. The woman backed up against the brick wall, but absolutely refused to leave the bot. Though her heart was pounding and she would be lying if she didn't say she was scared. She was terrified.

"Back off!" she threatened as menacingly as she could. "Or else-!"

"Or else what?" the one in the hoodie asked, getting even closer despite her and to the point where she could feel his breath on her.

Then, without warning, a hand smacked the man across his face and an audible slapping noise echoed across the brick walls. The hoodie recoiled and brought a hand up to his face before he looked at the woman snarling and his hand curled up into a fist. He backhands the blonde, hard, knocking her beanie off and sending her to the ground. The man lets his crowbar clatter to the ground as he gets on top and pins her to the ground, one hand at her throat. The robot tries to intervene but is knocked away by one of the thugs with a steel pipe to his dome, sparks flying as a dent formed across his head. Followed by more beatings and attacks from the other men for a good minute.

"Y'know what?" the hoodie asked, still pinning her to the ground as his eyes hovered over her. "You're actually kind of cute. What do you lads think?"

"She probably shags bots," one of them derisively comments. "Wouldn't fuck her cunt, either way."

"Eh, suit yourself, mate. Anyone else wanna 'ave some fun?"

Her eyes widened in horror as she begins to flail and tries to wrestle herself from his grip, screaming as she feels hands go to her lower body and work at the button of her pants and trying to peel it off.

"No, please!" she pleads desperately, her eyes beginning to water. "Please! Stop! HELP!"

"Shut your gob," the hoodie says, tightening his grip on her throat even more. "Besides, this'll be better than any robot cock."

The blonde whimpers as she feels someone take her shoes off and begin to slide her trousers off, leaving her too exposed already. She looks down and already sees the man working at his own pants and getting ready to strip himself. The woman shuts her eyes and tears begin to stream down her cheeks as she tries to keep wrestling from their grip but still bracing herself. Thoughts of home and her boyfriend come to mind, wishing to be anywhere else in the world but here.

The heavy thumping of boots and the sudden feeling of weight being lifted off her makes her open her eyes and sit up and see what was unfolding before her. A figure in a brown duster was repeatedly driving the blade of a knife into the hooded man's groin area and bloodying his undergarments. The man screaming and crying as he thrashed and tried to get him off but couldn't as one hand wrapped around his throat in a vise. The man in the duster then drove the blade into his stomach and began to twist the blade, uttering even more pained rattles. The blonde and the group of rioters were shocked by the scene as his cries echoed throughout the dark alleyway, the former backing up to the wall and holding her legs to her chest.

One of the thugs found their courage and tried to swing his bat at the duster, who swiftly ducked and delivered an uppercut to his jaw, knocking him back to the cobblestone. The man got off and stood up to his full height, easily towering everyone, but they had the number advantage and were already starting to hold up their weapons. The woman could see the brown coat stand between her and the thugs, watching as his hands ball into fists and visibly shake. The group yelled and charged at him, the woman burying her eyes into her shoulder but forced to listen to the entire fight.

There was screaming and pained grunts, the sound of bone being snapped, joints being torn, skulls being slammed into the brick walls, and the sound of a fist repeatedly hitting flesh. She hugged her legs closer and tighter to her chest, waiting for it to be done with. The violence, the fighting, all of it. After a few moments of an eternity, there was no sound of fighting, but of pained moans. She reluctantly opens her eyes, and sees the hooligans on the ground or struggling to get up. The man in the duster was still standing, his back still to her. He turns around slightly, revealing his helmeted mask to the woman as he looks back at her. She tenses up as soon as she sees the glowing red eyes of his, more than unnerved by her savior's appearance.

"Sod this..."

She hears one of the men utter that and looks ahead to see one of them bring up his bat to smash it against her savior's head. She was about to call it out and warn her, but he beat him to the punch and swiftly brought up a silver handgun up to the bat wielder's face, and a bright flash appeared alongside the loud register of the gun. She froze and watched as the body of the man collapsed to the ground, blood slowly pooling around his head. The others take this as a cue to finally run and stumble away but are rapidly gunned down by more rapid fire from the pistol. The shots expertly landing hits on his targets. Their bodies pathetically flopping to the old street.

The Briton worriedly look at the man, still in the fetal position, eyeing him and his silver pistol. A pained groan makes the man turn to his side and cast his eyes down to the ground, where the attempted-rapist was desperately trying to crawl away with a knife still in his gut. The red eyes walk over to him, prompting the man to scramble and crawl more quickly. The tall man crouches down and grabs the knife handle, painfully manipulating it to get the hoodie onto his back and screaming as he complied. He holds one bloodied hand up and begins to plead with blood pouring from his mouth.

"P-pleas-"

Two shots form two new holes on his head, causing him to go limp on the cobblestone. The man ungracefully retrieves his knife from the new corpse, the sound of flesh slicing and crunching as he did so. He stands up and flicks the excess blood from the blade before wiping the metal against his sleeve. He looks back down at the woman, cowering more behind her legs as she stares back at his mask, now splattered with blood over it. A blue flash diverts her attention, however, and she sees the worried face of a spiky-haired woman with orange-tinted goggles at her side.

"Don't worry, love," she says in a familiar voice, trying to comfort the blonde. "The calvary's here!"

The blonde couldn't but instantly gawk at the brunette in front of her, a woman known for being Britain's Overwatch poster-child: Tracer. The booming of metal thumps made her cast her eyes to a huge, approaching figure in enclosed in metal and resembling the knights of yore. It was another Overwatch poster-child, yet a much older one: Reinhardt. Never would she have thought she would see these long heroes come to save the day. Long-proclaimed heroes of the world that have come to Britain for what wasn't the first time. Yet, that only raised further questions about the man in the duster, a complete unknown to her.

"Are you all right?" the voice of Reinhardt asks from beneath that helmet.

"Y-yes," she stammers. "Thank you... Thank you so much!"

"Molotov!"

She hears the coated figure speak for the first time, and speedily draws his sidearm and shoots at the bottle with a lit rag in it, hurling at them. Miraculously, the bottle shatters but its contents are still lit aflame. Reinhardt brings up his barrier, the blue shield protecting those behind him from the fire.

* * *

_Days Earlier..._

A black London taxi glides over the cobbled streets of King's Row and pulls up to a hotel, the words "Alderworth Hotel" prominently displayed on signs over its doorways and on a holo-sign attached to the building's side. A door opens from the taxi, and its two occupants climb out onto the sidewalk. The first is a bun-haired brunette with thick-rimmed glass, wearing a brown leather jacket over a t-shirt displaying a red dot surrounded by a blue ring with some white in-between, and a pair of slim jeans with black and white skate shoes. The second passenger, this time a bearded man with aviators, climbs out and is just in a plain white t-shirt and worn jeans, and an interesting contraption on his left forearm. He was holding onto a luggage bag with his left arm and a duffle bag slung over his right shoulder. He closes the car door behind them and the cab drives off, leaving them at their destination.

The two walk into the hotel and are immediately greeted by the receptionist, also a brunette but with long straightened hair.

"Hello! Welcome to Alderworth Hotel. How may I help you?"

The glass-wearing woman walked up to reception desk, putting on a smile.

"Hiya," she greeted in an East-end accent. "I'm here to check into a room I booked."

"Name?" the receptionist asks, going on to her computer.

"Amelia Johnson."

The receptionist's eyes scan over the holo-screen before finally catching the name.

"Alright, Missus Johnson," she says as she produces two plastic keycards. "I have you and your husband in room 3-0-5."

"Er, husband?" the brunette stammered, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I assumed..."

Just then, the man behind him scoffed and started chuckling at their exchange, shaking his head. The brunette scowled at him before turning back and taking the cards from the receptionists' hand.

"Don't worry about it," she says, reassuring. "Thank you."

Calling the elevator, they both walk into the lift as the doors open with a ding. They wait for the doors to shut close before the woman punches the man in the shoulder, resulting in a pained grunt.

"It's not my fault you almost blew our cover... 'Amelia'," he says, uttering that last word with scorn.

"Oh, put a sock in it, Brin," she said, rolling her eyes.

No more words were exchanged as the elevator continued rising until a bell and an automated voice notified them they were now on the 3rd floor. They stepped out and walked to their room, Lena taking the lead as Nathan followed, hauling their "luggage" with them. They soon found a door with the numbers "3-0-5" on it, Lena takes out one of the keycards and slides it into the electronic lock and making the light blink green. Twisting the handle, she opens it inward and switches on a light to reveal a compact, cozy space with a bed, a desk, a chair, and a television set. They both file in and Nathan sets the luggage down onto the bed before he looks around and examines the hotel room.

"Hmmm," he lets out in thought as he examines the room, somewhat impressed by the room. "Not bad. Shame there's only one bed, though."

"And we're sure as hell not sharing," she says, smarmily. "That's for sure."

Nathan regards her with an annoyed expression before he sets the luggage and duffle bags onto the Queen-sized bed. He manipulates the zipper and flips it open to reveal their outfits: his duster, helmet, and armor along with her bomber jacket, goggles, jumpsuit, and "Chronal Accelerator" he recalled. He then went over to the duffle and unzipped it to reveal their gear, mainly their weapons. Then grabbing his M1911 and couple magazines before stuffing the handgun into his waist and the mags in his back pockets. Nathan looks up to see Lena already strapping her chest piece to herself before she pulls out a holopad and starts manipulating the images on the screen. A holovid displaying the face of Winston then appeared.

"Alright, Winston," Lena said to the screen. "We're here."

"Good to hear," the gorilla acknowledged. "So, how are things out there?"

"Pretty quiet at the moment, but I doubt that'll last."

"Where's Nathan and Reinhardt?"

The Courier then came into view of the video chat, behind the Pilot.

"Right here, chief," he confirmed with much fake enthusiasm. "Reinhardt stayed back at the ship, to keep an eye on things while we were gone. Besides, he ain't exactly conspicuous."

"He's the opposite of that, really," Lena added on. "So, what now, big guy?"

"The reports I received about King's Row are rather... Concerning," Winston explained, his face fidgeting from the details. "Tensions have gotten worse since Mondatta's death, and the frequency of rioting and clashing have gotten higher. Surely isn't helped by the registration and curfew there's been. Now, there are rumors that something big is going to happen in midst of all the chaos."

"Any clue to what?"

"Only rumors. That's why you'll need to stake out the area and find any clues to what it is."

"How long will that take?" Nathan asks, a bit peeved from their vague orders.

"I don't know. Depends on what you guys will be able to achieve. I wish you the best of luck."

The screen blinks off, leaving Lena and Nathan alone in the room.

"Well, now what?" Brin asks, unsure of how to even get on with the mission.

"Well, I for one am going to start walking around me old stomping grounds," Lena declares, grabbing her outfit and equipment. "And by stomping grounds, I mean the rooftops."

"I guess I'll do some wandering, too. Though, I'll keep my boots on the ground."

"Don't get lost," Oxton's tone more scornful than concerned.

Nathan walks out of the hotel room, giving the Brit Pilot privacy. He takes the elevator to the ground level and walks out, briskly ignoring the receptionist desk as he walks past and goes out onto the streets. This time, he looks up and immediately sees the large golden statue of some kind of humanoid creature holding what looks like a levitating gyroscope in one hand and holding the hand of a child in the other. The Wasterlander saw it when they were pulling up to the hotel, but didn't really have the inclination to ask what it was about. He just looks around the block and sees the street lead to another part of town, and sees some establishments in the distance. Maybe checking out the sights wouldn't be too bad of a first step.

A few minutes of strolling around the cobblestone streets felt rather different than anywhere else he's been. Everything was tightly packed and the streets were all windy and seemed to lead to wherever, kind of like how rundown Giza was, but the chilly and cloudy climate was something almost alien to him. There were only a few instances he ever traveled outside a desert, but they weren't in another "alien" civilization.

'I guess I'm the first New Californian to go to Britain _,_ ' he thought, somewhat amused at by the circumstances but shivered from failing to bring some proper clothing for the weather. 'I guess I'm the first New Californian to go to Britain. How exciting. Wish it wasn't this cold, though _._ '

The noise of glass cups clinking and laughter distracted him from his shivering and looks to see the open door to some establishment with the faded sign "The Fox and the Bear" over its windows. He gets closer and inspects it, but stops short of the doorway to see a plaque posted next to it. It read "No Omnics Allowed".

'The hell's an 'Omnic'?'he asks himself, thinking back to the statue minutes earlier and wondering if that was related in any way.

He goes in, regardless, and is pleasantly surprised to see that it's a bar. Pretty lively one at that, too. What instantly stood out to him was the music. Some kind of jazz, but it had electronic noises and sound effects, very different to what he's listened to. It sounded interesting, at least.

Spying an open stool at the counter, Nathan walks forward and plops his ass down right on it, the green cushion compressing and the beige wood creaking under his weight. Not soon after, the bartender dressed in a white button-up shirt with a black vest walks over to him. He an older, portly man, his hair white and gray and adorning a pair of eyeglasses with rather large lenses.

"Welcome," he greets, his accent of a deeper tenor and enunciation than Oxton's. "Haven't seen you around here, before. What can I get ya', lad?"

"Ya' got some Scotch?" Nathan asks, eager to wet his whistle. "On the rocks preferably?"

"Oh, wasn't expecting to serve an American in my pub. But sure, I'll get you a glass in a moment."

The patron could only keep his mouth shut about where he was from when the bartender moved to fetch him a glass. Moments later, he does come back with a clear glass with ice cubes sitting in it and a bottle with a caramel-colored liquid, then unscrewing it and pouring until the glass was half-full.

"Credits, please," he asks.

"Credi-?," the Waster cut himself before realization pops in. "Oh, right..."

"What? You expecting handouts?"

"No, not like that. It's just... I'm new here. Not exactly familiar with the customs."

"Ah, guess they run things differently back home, huh? Well, no harm done."

Nathan reaches into his back pocket and retrieves out a plastic card, one that was loaned to him in case the need ever arose, and he handed it to the older man. After hovering it over a machine and causing an audible beep, he hands it back to the younger man.

"So, where are you from, specifically?" the old man asks.

"California," Brin quickly answered. "Why?"

"Eh, just curious. Don't get much visitors from anywhere else. Some people like to think it's my  _policies_ , but to hell with them."

"Policies? What policies?"

Before he could even get his answer, the bartender's eyes drifted upward and looked at something behind him, causing his calm and almost welcoming visage to morph into an irritated expression.

"Oi!" he yells, loud enough to silence the bar and draws everyone's attention to what he was yelling at. "Didn't you see the sign out front? We don't serve  _tins_  here!"

Nathan looks back and sees what everyone else is staring at; a blonde woman in a beanie and a humanoid robot with her that had hydraulics all over its body and three blue dots above two slits on its head. It looked like the statue he saw earlier, and his question incidentally got answered.

"We-we're sorry," the blonde woman timidly said, her face getting redder. "We were just looking for a place to-"

"I don't give a rat's arse!" the bartender exclaimed. "Either you leave or I'm callin' the cops!"

The Nathan looks back and forth between the bartender and the couple, wondering what was even happening. Other patrons joined in on the harangue.

"Just bloody do what he says!"

The two exchanged hushed words with each other before they finally decide to turn tail and vacate the premises, with people still yelling at them even when they were on the street.

"That's right, keep moving!"

"Fuck out of here!"

Moments after they were long gone, the bar quickly went back to what it was without a pause, patrons drinking and laughing but now sneering at what happened. Some, however, were silent and their corners were devoid of any laughter. Nathan's included.

"What was that about?" he asked, not to anyone in particular but confusion.

"Er, sorry about that, mate," the bartender apologizes. "I don't know how things are back in the states, but here it's just those damn tin-cans don't know how to follow rules, y'know?"

"...Right..."

He stared at the old man, who went back to business as usual when he tended to the other patrons. Of all the things Nathan expected in this world, he sure as hell wasn't expecting to see a robot and his girlfriend get yelled out of a bar. Thoughts of home and of the Ghouls and Super Mutants came to his mind, for some reason thinking this world was going to be different, especially how one of the first people he met was a literal gorilla-scientist leading a once world-renowned international force. Or, maybe he was giving this world more credit than it deserved. He just kept drinking.

* * *

After what seemed like an hour of culturally enriching himself in a London pub, Nathan walked back out onto the streets of the city but now found he wasn't the only one of them. In fact, the streets were now congested with people and "Omnics" holding signs and marching in groups. The messages across these signs varied, from one promoting peace, paintings of human and Omnic hands touching, images of strange symbols he's never seen, and reference to an "iris" for some reason. This wasn't a small demonstration either, as the there were enough people to crowd the cobblestone streets and making it annoyingly difficult for Nathan to weave through. He also saw men and women in black uniforms with a dome-shaped hat with a badge on their heads. They looked like police officers and didn't seem particularly happy to be there. The Waster weaved further through the crowd and spotted some humans and machines putting their hands against the wall as these officers patted them down and arrested them, one of them was even outfitted in some type of riot gear. All the while, protesters were screaming at them.

'Ah, shit,' he cursed in his mind. 'Need to get out of here before things get worse.'

Parting his way through the crowd and getting back to the hotel, he thankfully saw the crowd get less and less dense, making his walk slightly easier the more he drifted from it. He finally freed himself from the crowd and made his back to the hotel, wondering if Oxton was back and with anything new.

As he walks up the hotel steps, he pauses and turns around to look back at the huge statue of the Omnic. He backtracks and walks in front of the monument and stands right at its base. He studies the statue, once again looking at the machine levitating an interesting item in one hand while he held the hand of a human child, looking up at him with awe in her face. Even though he couldn't really read the taller statues face that well, it gave off a sense of poise that he must be representing. Holding hands, and all. Reminds Nathan of unity, but somewhere else. Far away.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" says a synthesized, calming, and tranquil voice from his right.

Nathan turns his head to see one of them, an Omnic, standing next to him. No, he wasn't standing, he was  _levitating_  around two feet off the ground. He wore baggy yellow trousers, a red loincloth hanging in between his legs, and a yellow rope around his waist. The fingers on either of his hands clasped together as metal, ornate orbs hovered around his neck. He had glowing blue dots on his head like the others, but much more, around nine in fact. The human looked back up at the statue and saw the similarities between it and the automaton next to him.

"Yeah..." the man responded, before looking back down at the machine. "Friend of yours?"

"Yes," the machine confirmed, but solemnly and in a quieter pitch. "Mondatta was my brother. Of the same clan. I came here to pay my respects."

It was then that the Courier learned this statue wasn't just a monument, but a memorial. And he finally found out this "Mondatta" figure in the briefings he bothered to pay attention to wasn't a man.

"Sorry to hear that," he apologized, after realizing

"All is forgiven," the Omnic accepted before he turned to face the man. "What of you, friend? Your accent marks you as a fellow outsider. What brings you here?"

"Trouble," the Courier flatly states. "Or, at least that's one way of putting it."

"I see..." the machine acknowledges. "I can sense disorder in you. Restlessness. I hope those feelings will pass soon."

The man furrows his brow at the robot, thinking of a proper response to that odd statement.

"Thanks," he said, somewhat awkwardly but gratefully. "I guess."

"You are very welcome."

The Wanderers both stood together at the base of the monument, staring up at its gold stature. Movement to the right catches Nathan's eyes and he sees an approaching group of Omnics and humans. He steps aside as they stop a couple of feet from the floating Omnic and speak to him.

"E-excuse me?" one of the robots asks. "Are you a member of the Shambali?"

"Not anymore," the floating Omnic responds a bit solemnly. "But, I am always willing to lend a hand. How may I help?"

"We would appreciate it if you could help us in our rally. I'm sure you could do a world's worth of good for us!"

"Of course, my friends! Anything to help mend the fissure between humans and Omnics here. Please, lead the way."

And so, they departed for the demonstration mere blocks away, but the ex-Shambali pauses and faces Nathan.

"Oh, and goodbye my friend!" the monk gleefully said, taking care to bid farewell. "May you walk in harmony."

"Thanks," Nathan says, not sure how to follow up. "You too."

The Courier stood there and watched as the group departed, making their way back to the crowded streets. However, he noticed a group of humans dressed in dark clothing standing next to a telephone booth and eye the group as they walked past, one of them even spitting on the path they walked on. He could only sigh and shake his head as he went back into the hotel.


	15. Rule, Britannia! pt. 2

Days had passed since their deployment to Lena's homeland and the agents had still come up with nothing. They observed more protests and rallies on the streets, some having violent encounters with the police, but that wasn't exactly uncommon these days. So, they still haven't found anything. And they were getting rather bored.

At the hotel room desk, Nathan had fallen asleep as he was in the middle of field stripping his rifle. He didn't need to strip it down, but being stuck in a hotel room and wandering around the same old block was starting to get dull. Surprisingly covered a lot of ground in this city, but it was nothing like the open Mojave.

The room door opened and "Amelia" came in holding two paper bags and a cup holder with two soft drinks. She sets them down on the bed and grabs one of each, going to Nathan's sleeping side. She nudges him awake with the bag, the paper rusting against his head.

"Wakey, wakey," she says, stirring the man.

"Uuh, er-wha-?" he wakes, rubbing his eyes. "What is it?"

"Food's here."

The man looks and sees the bag and cup, taking both in his hands and setting them on the desk, brushing gun parts away.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

They ate in relative silence in the moments following, Nathan keeping to the desk and munching away on a fried fish fillet with French fries, Lena eating on the bed while watching television. It was a local newscast, focusing on the unrest on the streets, all of it Omnic related. And of course, King's Row was at the center of it. The Brit could only sigh as she watched what was unfolding mere blocks away. It wasn't a war zone by any stretch, but she felt the need to get out again and recon her home one more time.

"I need to get back out there," Lena said aloud.

"You just got back," Nathan said, swiveling his chair. "You've been out there non-stop."

"Well, someone has to be there, looking out for the rest of them."

"We still have to figure out what to look for. Even though we don't have much to go on. Still, stop wasting your time and energy. At this rate, you're just going to run into a wall."

"Hey!"

Nathan just held up his open hands in faux-submission as the Pilot regarded him with an annoyed look. Though, she did look back at her meal, seeing there were only nibbles on it, apparently too focused on what was on TV and what she planned on what to do next.

"Ugh, fine!" she relented, tending to her food. "But as soon as I'm finished I'm heading back out!"

"On a full stomach?" he asked, somewhat concerned.

"Eh, fast metabolism."

The Courier rolled his eyes at her energy, the spunk that she had. She kind of reminded him of himself, when he was younger. An eager adventurer wanting to go out East and explore the territories. The good that did him.

However, it kept him wondering ever since they left Gibraltar.

"Gotta ask, Oxton," Brin questions, turning to face her again. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Lena asks, her face scrunching up.

"That... Energy you always seemed to have a reserve off. Jumping all over the place. Do you ever get tired?"

"No way! I live for this! Swerving, speeding, blinking all over the place. Giving baddies what's coming to them. Saving people, being a part of something greater! It's why I'm here, really."

That made Nathan frown more than anything, despite her answer being very detailed and sounding very sincere.

"Huh, you're sure as hell enthusiastic," he mused, as he stares blankly to the side.

"And you're not?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

The Courier only gave her a deadpan look, accusing her of not remembering what had happened prior to them working together.

"Oh, right, you didn't have much a choice, did you?"

"Did I?" he asks, not expecting an answer. "Nevermind. Dumb question."

"Why is it dumb? Surely, that would be something you'd wanna know, innit?"

"It's something I don't really want to think about."

"Why?"

"I don't like thinking about yesterday and all the shit that happens. Is that a good enough answer, for you?"

Hearing that, Lena's expression turned a bit somber as she placed a hand on her glowing chest piece. The man across from her noticed, eyes drifting back and forth between her and the device.

"I guess you have a past with that, don't you?" he asks, but not to pry.

"Yeah," she muttered. "You could say that."

They ate in relative silence again, until Lena finished and was ready to set out again. Nathan had to use the bathroom, so that gave her ample amount of privacy to switch into her gear. Once he was done with his business, he came back to an empty room with an open window, the curtain flapping from the wind. Probably explains the lack of Tracer and the room being colder than it should be. He goes over to it to close it and let the heat stay in, but as he was about to, he spots a group of men in dark clothing make their way across the street. They had other people with them, too, and one of them was the receptionist.

'The hell is she doing with them?' he asks himself. 'Where are they going?'

He notices other groups of individuals making their way down the same direction and sees a mass of them convening at a what looks like a cathedral. There was even a double-decker bus unloading people filing into the large door. Just what in the hell were they there for?

Nathan lets out a hum, planning on what he should do. He turns around and walks to the bed, where his gear still is. Donning his black armor once again, he decides that taking the Carbine will be the sensible choice. He isn't going to do much with a Brush Gun in an urban area like this. He also brought along another Stealth-Boy, as he was expecting to do some infiltration. He left the hotel room and made his way to the ground floor not having to worry about a receptionist keeping watch anymore. Nathan got back onto the street, now darker but still well-lit enough to where he had to stay in any shadows he could find. Peering from around the corner of a wall, he could see the cathedral just ahead, people still filing while others were posted outside and keeping watch.

He fastened the Stealth-Boy to his forearm and flipped the switch, the stealth radiation washing over his form and making him nigh invisible. Exiting from his cover, he takes a less direct route and goes through the alleyway that was immediately right of him. It gave him ample cover and darkness to hide behind, but he still hugged to the wall. The cathedral came into view again, and he could see an entrance on the side, an unattended door. The Wastelander snuck over to the door and, while keeping an eye on the main door, slowly opened it to the point where there was enough space for him to squeeze through. After going through and closing the door slightly he hugs to the wall of the hallway and as he reaches another doorway, he peers inside to see many people inside. There was equipment, crates, and supplies scattered throughout. Most of the people had makeshift weapons, knives, bats, pipes, apparently anything they could get their hands on. However, some of them walking around with guns. And they didn't look like the common rabble.

Suddenly a voice spoke out, silencing the crowd and bringing all attention to the back of a church, where a command center with monitors and computers seemed to be set up. Standing in the middle of it was her, the Receptionist, and she had beaming pride in her voice. The acoustics of the cathedral helping her project greatly.

"Ladies and Gentleman!" she yelled, the interior architecture of the church echoing her voice for all to hear. "Today is the day we finally rid not just King's Row, but all of Britannia, of the Underworld!"

Boisterous cheering and applause responded to that statement, going on for moments until it died down for her to speak again.

"For many of us, this is revenge for the hardships we faced years ago. Revenge for the loved ones we will never see again, brutally gunned down by those damn machines! But this is not just revenge, this is also justice!"

Another standing ovation garnered from that, even though there were no chairs.

"Before, sympathetic 'Benefactors' who like us suffered greatly because of the Omnics, helped humanity by assassinating the so-called 'peaceful' machine that was deceiving our fellow Britons. And with their help again, they have bestowed us the privilege of killing them off and making sure they will never harm another human soul, again. Unlike our Russian brothers and sisters, there will not be a 2nd Omnic Crisis in London!"

More applause and cheering, a fervor purveying through this crowd that refused to go away.

'At least she knows how to rile a crowd,' Nathan thought, shaking his head as he watches the scene unfold. 'And here I was beginning to think she was a friendly face'

"Now, you shall take to the streets and cause havoc, making way for our friends to deliver the bomb to the very heart of the enemy. Go now, and give Britain its independence!"

The crowd of rioters cheered and ran out of the front door, brandishing their weapons and other tools of anarchy. However, two of them for some reason decided to take the path less traveled, the hallway where the cloaked man was. He hugged to the wall, controlling his breathing, hoping they wouldn't notice.

Thankfully, they passed, completely unaware of who else was with them in that hallway. Nathan went back to the corner and peered from it. There were still some people left, but they did not look like run-of-the-mill hooligans dressed in hoodies and wielding chains. They were armed with proper weaponry and had gear like vests and armor. There were around 2-3 squads of them, and they were all huddled around an older man in a similar outfit.

"Alright, lads," he said, giving a pep talk to the others in a thick Scottish-accent. "This has been a long time coming. We're getting paid to scrap some bots. I don't think I need to motivate any of you of what we're about to do. Let's get the job done!"

They left, leaving Nathan alone in the cathedral except for some other guards and the Receptionist, who was at the command center. Nathan brings a gloved hand to the side of his helmet and tries to reach out.

"Tracer!" he calls out over to the radio at a hushed volume. "Tracer, where are you?!"

"... Nathan?" she finally says after a few moments of radio silence. "I'm watching over the rally and keeping an eye out for trouble. Where are you?"

"I just saw a crowd of people leave the church near the hotel to go start a riot."

"Church? You mean the one near the 'The Meridian'? How many?!"

"Like I said, enough to start a riot. But that's not all, there are some mercs here, too. They're armed and they were talking about 'scraping bots'. A majority of them took to the streets already."

"Oh, God..." she said, her peppiness and fervor now replaced with apprehension. "I'll get Reinhardt on the line and leg it over there as soon as I can!"

"No, stay there," Nathan commanded. "I'll take care of things here. You just-"

"Just what? We need to be there. You'll be all by yourself."

"You need to watch over the crowd and make sure those thugs don't cause too much trouble. And then we'll meet up and clean up the rest. How's that sound?"

"... Don't take too long."

At that, he released his hand from the comms and snuck over into the large, center room. There were around three guards left, two patrolling the floor and the other sitting on a crate looking at something on his holopad. Nathan made him his first target and grabbed him when the others weren't looking. His first target struggled until a blade was driven into his throat, thrashing violently until he silently passed. Releasing his body, Nathan spots one of the other guards and slowly sneaks up on him. Getting close, he then wraps his arm around the front of his neck, forcing the merc lean back far and almost trip. The Courier applied more pressure at an angle and before driving the still wet knife into his throat, making sure to do it slowly and quietly. Even if his victim shook like they were having a seizure and muffled screams vibrated against his arm. It was working. Unfortunately, his Stealth-Boy decided that was enough and gave out, the cloak crackling with electrical sparks as it did.

"Wha-Contact!"

The Courier ducked assault rifle fire as he brought up his own rifle and returned fire, landing two successive shots on the merc and sending him to the floor. He then swiftly drifted his barrel to the stage, aiming it at the hotel receptionist, who was now wide-eyed. She looked to her right and saw a handgun on the table, immediately dashing to it. However, as she wrapped her hands around the grip, Nathan fired a well-placed shot and knock it out of her hands. She fell to the floor, screaming and clutching her now bloodied hand. He walked up to the woman, bending down to wrap a hand around her throat and hoist her into the air, her hands clamp around his forearm.

"Tell me what's going on around here," he demanded, his mask inches from her face. "Who planned this?"

"W-we did, the p-people of Britain," she gasped under his grip. "W-who else?"

"Bullshit, then what were those mercs about? Who sent them?"

"Some people, who understand our cause..."

"What are they going to do? What are they planning?"

"Th-they never told us. They wanted us to make a distraction for them. To achieve their goal. Try and stop them, traitor."

She then spat on Nathan's visor and smiled. The tall armored man then promptly slammed his metal head into her face and knocked her out, making her limp in his hand. He unceremoniously threw her to the ground as he reached for a bandana and started wiping the saliva off his mask. Looking to the command center and the computer, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a white flash-drive, remembering what McCree did back at Egypt and deciding to take after. Going to one of the computers and figuring out where the port was for a few seconds, he sticks it in and the image of Athena pops up on the monitor and establishes a connection, downloading whatever she could.

He leaned against the desk, watching the progress bar slowly creep to the monitor so he could pull it out as soon as it finished. His thoughts were disturbed however when he heard multiple booming sounds go off in the distance, seeing the light of the flames from the church's windows. His helmet's radio then came to life.

"Brin! Where are you?!" Lena screamed into his ear. "Rein's here but everything just went to hell really quick and now the armed men are on the streets with some... Thing!"

"Just hold on!" he said, going back to the monitor. "I'm downloading some data. As soon as it's done, I'll get there as soon as I can."

The computer then beeped, signaling it was done. Nathan took the flashdrive and turned around to run out, but he wasn't expecting to see the receptionist now up, and with a pistol up to his head. The man paused and stood there, waiting for her to make her move as he slowly raised his hands up, flashdrive still in his right. Pistol trained on his head, she held up her bloody free hand, Nathan glancing at it before he complied and slowly dropped the memory stick in it. She smiled, while he scowled under the helmet.

"Looks like you're going nowhe-"

She didn't have time to respond when Nathan's left hand swiped her arm to her left and getting the pistol's muzzle away from his head, lightning fast. Simultaneously, he unholstered his sidearm and shot it from the hip, landing two shots on the woman as she fell to the ground, letting go of both the pistol and thumbstick. He stepped over to the thumbstick and bent down to pick it up, the woman writhing on the ground. As he got up to leave, he squeezed the trigger one more time and sent a round through her head.

* * *

The Courier now found himself back on the London streets and they were much different from what they were just half an hour ago. If they intended for there to be a riot, they certainly did a good job making it so, as there were fire and people running to safety. He didn't know where Oxton and Reinhardt were, but he could guess that they would be where everyone else was running from. He didn't have much trouble weaving through crowds this time, as everyone parted for the tall imposing figure like a rock in a river. It was probably the gun or the armor, or both. However, as he was running he noticed one of the metal walls on a building opposite of the hotel was opened, upturned like a garage door. There was also a dead mercenary lying in a pool of his own blood. They were hiding something in there, and it was under their noses.

He pressed on, following the noise of the fighting, and noticing the thugs were all over, wreaking havoc. Wrecking windows, overturning dumpsters, and cars, and committing arson on some establishments. He spotted one group beating down on an Omnic with pipes and decides gunning them down with his carbine was the best option as he went along the street. His shots echoed throughout the cobblestone street as he began picking targets. Shooting and scooting the entire way, he finally catches up to the rest of the team and sees that hulking set of Power Armor, currently producing a blue shield that blocked oncoming fire from a group of mercs up ahead. He could see a blue flash across the rooftops and sending rapid blue energy fire down on them. Nathan ran up to the Knight and started firing through the shield.

"Ah, you have finally joined us amidst battle!" the German announced, somehow sounding elated under all the gunfire. "Splendid!"

Nathan didn't respond as he shot down a few mercs who stayed out of cover for too long. Then, the blue flash appeared and something fell next to the mercs, who had little time to react as the device detonated and sent them flying. Tracer then blinked in front of them.

"Come on boys!" she exclaimed. "They're getting away!"

They followed, running across the cobblestone as they turned the corner and the rest of the mercs finally came into sight. There was more than a dozen of them, heavily armed and surrounding a floating, red cylinder with a blue glowing coil at its center. Some of the mercenaries broke off from the main group and opened fire on them, sending Tracer blinking and Reinhardt to activate the barrier, the shots rippling the field of blue energy like water. The Courier returned fire, taking out a few and forcing them to either back-up or take cover wherever they could. As the two marched further, the Waster notices one of them throwing something and sees it fly towards them. He raises his rifle and after tracking it for a second, fires and detonates before it could get close to them.

"Well done, my friend!" Reinhardt said, complementing the shorter man on his aim. "Didn't know you had it in you. A fine shot!"

The Courier decides to return the favor and unhooks a fragmentation grenade from his belt, thumbing the pin and pulling on it, he tosses it and lands it just in the middle of them. It detonates, the shockwave knocking anyone caught in it about and the shrapnel slicing anything it flew against. The sharpshooter takes the opportunity to run through the barrier and take them head on while they were dazed, Reinhardt following with metal stomps. Seeing soldiers dazed or wounded, he swiftly fires before they can retaliate. The Knight sends those still standing flying through the air, or into a wall. Tracer reappears, helping them clean up stragglers.

After that, the group ran up to the entrance of a tunnel made entirely of metal and immediately were fired upon. The Power Armored German brought his shield up just in time, especially as two RPG's impacted the shield and shook the ground around them. Shaken, their rifleman brought up his carbine and peering through the dust ahead, fired at a figure holding some kind of tube, making him fall off a platform and into a pit. The rest of the hired guns fired as they retreated further into the tunnel.

"Alright!" the Brit said, spinning her dual guns. "Let's finish this!"

"Right behind you!" the German boomed.

"Yeah, let's just-" the Californian was about to say until he heard something that made him pause.

"No, please!"

He heard the shrill scream of a woman calling out in distress. An alley next to them the source of the echo. He stood still as he focused on listening to the sounds for further confirmation.

"Please! Stop! Help!"

The Courier bolts off like a hound towards the source of the screaming, certain something was happening to her. Something unforgivable and that made his blood boil hotter than any desert sun. The others yelling after him as they see him running away.

"Hey! Where are you going?!"

He ignored them as he ran around a corner and continued running until he abruptly stopped in his tracks, seeing what was unfolding in front of him. It was the group of loiterers from earlier, dressed in their dark clothing and brandishing their weapons, but there was a woman there. The same woman he saw get kicked out of the bar with her "boyfriend". And those men were pinning her down and planning to  _rape_  her.

The Wastelander balled his fist to the point where he could himself trembling and feeling all the sensations in his knuckles disappear. He bared his teeth under the mask and his breathing became raspy. As he grabbed the hilt of his knife and pulled it from its sheath, one thing was certain: those men signed their death warrants!

He barreled towards them, the men oblivious to the impending Courier until it was too late. One of them, the one in a hoodie, looked up and widened his eyes in shock just before he was tackled to the stone and off the woman. Instantly, the Bounty Hunter drove his blade through the man's boxers, piercing flesh and making him scream. The hoodie tries to grapple at him, but Nathan strangles and easily forces him to the ground as he repeatedly drives the blade through him. The more he repeats the motion, the more he slices and mutilates flesh, the easier it becomes to pull it out and repeat. After it felt like he no longer had genitals, he removes the blade and plunges the blade into his abdomen, watching his face contort and scream in excruciating as he does it. Not enough to sate the Courier, however.

Approaching footsteps cause him to look up, and narrowly dodge a bat to the cranium before he delivered a well-placed uppercut to the thug's face. He gets up from the human pincushion and stares down at the rest of them, seeing them get their weapons up and ready. The man in the duster still has his fist balled and shaking, not even bothering to reach for his gun. He decides to let them make the first move.

"Come on," he calmly mutters under his mask, loud enough only for him. "Let's have some  _fun_."

They charge, the one closest to him swinging at him with a crowbar. He sidesteps it and grabs the arm carrying the tool and sends a left hook directly into his face, before delivering a jab to him in the gut and swiping his feet from under him. Quickly followed by a man with a hammer, Nathan blocks it with his forearm and sending a right hook into his face. Staggered, he grabs his head and drives it into his armored knee, cracking his skull open with his enhanced strength. He turns to his left to stop another thug coming at his side, grabbing his neck with one arm while he blocked his hand with the other. Spotting another man charging at him with a board, the helmeted brawler headbutts the one he's holding and hurls his dazed form to the charging man and knocking both to the hard street. Screaming then catches the Courier's attention, seeing a man dashing towards him with a knife. He ducks under the first swipe as he seizes him by his midsection and lifts him into the air. The knife wielder panics, slashing desperately at the cloth before he is slammed into the ground. The concussive force reverberates through his body as one of his shoulder blades fractures, causing him to clutch at his side.

The Courier steps back, unscathed, and looks at the good work he's done, looking at them all writhing in pain. For now. A small, devilish, and blood-thirsty smirk forming under the helm.

Soft whimpering caused him to lose that smirk before looking over his shoulder and back at the woman. The blonde was pressed up against the wall, hugging her legs close to her chest. She was looking at him, in the eyes, and he couldn't but help stare back at the poor woman. Sparks veered his eyes to the left and saw the damaged hull of an Omnic with a pretty sizable dent in his head. The Courier didn't even notice him in the beginning.

"Sod this..."

He instinctively reached for his pistol, unholstered it, and brought the barrel up to the eyes of the bat-wielding thug. In the split second in before he squeezed the trigger, he saws the man's eyes go wide in dread. Staring down the last thing he would ever see. The gun went off with a bang and the rioter's lifeless body toppled over. This prompted the others to make the smart decision for once and run away. The man holding the gun had other plans and quickly gunned all of them down before they could even get ten yards away. After he made them all fall to the wet street - the barrel of his .45 still smoking - a groan to his left grabs his attention, seeing the hoodie try and crawl away. He walks over to him, not even bothering to hurry as he stands over him and bends down to grab the handle of the knife still in him and painfully forces him onto his back. His red eyes stare down the hooligan's as he brings up the barrel to his head, and delivers two shots to his cranium.

As his head slumps back and blood starts to spill from it, the Courier retrieves his knife with a sickening squelch and stands up. The blade is glossed in bodily fluids, which he tries to flick off before he wipes the metal against his sleeve. Hearing more whimpering, he looks back to see the woman still there, still in the fetal position, and still giving him wary eyes.

A blue flash goes off next to her and the form of Tracer reappears at the woman's side. Hearing stomps behind him, he sees Reinhardt catching up, unsure of whether the German had concern under his helm. Nathan continued examining the blade, the conversation they were having with the blonde becoming white noise. Barely seeing his reflection in the rust, he wipes his gloved fingers across it before he flips it and sticks it into its sheath. An orange glow turned his head.

"Molotov!" he called out as he brought up his .45 and shot the bottle out of the air, letting its contents rain free.

Reinhardt brings up his barrier, the blue shield protecting those behind him from the fire.

"That was close!" the German said, the fire slowly dying off his shield.

"And we need to get back to the bomb!" Lena exclaimed, now standing.

"You two go ahead. I'll get these two back to safety!"

Lena stopped in her tracks, turning around to looks at Reinhardt with a worried expression.

"Are you sure about that big guy?" Oxton asked, not happy they were going to be split up.

"It is not safe here anymore!" Reinhardt stated, pointing a big metal finger to the civilians behind them. "One of them is too injured to move and the other still needs assistance. You'll do fine without me, now go!"

Tracer didn't feel right with this. Of course, the civilians had to safe. They were always a priority, but without Reinhardt, their chances of stopping the bomb could significantly dwindle. For someone always fast on her feet, this was mind-wrenching.

The sound of more gunfire from the tunnel broke her train of thought.

"Looks like we wasted enough time," remarked the duster-wearing man next to her. "Are we gonna go or not?"

She nodded and started running alongside him, but looked back to see the man in power armor hoist up the Omnic over his shoulder and the girl in one of his hands, soon running to whatever safety they could find. She silently wished them good luck and looked forward, blinking ahead to gain more ground while Nathan tried to keep up.

They were now in the tunnels, metal walls and ceilings surrounding them and the sound of machinery and electricity pervading their ears. The air becoming a stale the further inside they went into this tunnel. The sound of fighting up ahead was much more pronounced, however. They ran further up ahead and saw the group of mercenaries with their bomb were dangerously approaching what seemed to be their destination, but halted, as they were engaging some unseen entity from the left hurling blue bolts of energy at their forces, even cutting a few of them down.

"Who else is fighting them?" Tracer asked, watching from afar.

"Who cares?" the Courier answered as he charged his rifle. "Light 'em up!"

Tracer nodded in agreement and swung out her Pulse Pistols before she blinked off, engaging the enemy as she evaded their fire. Nathan brought up his rifle and started firing, rapidly taking them out with precise shots before they smartened up and returned fire. He ducked, weaved, and rolled to evade their fire, making sure to pop off a few rounds and land some hits in between his evasion. The soldiers being distracted and taking fire from all sides, the blinking Brit now had a window of opportunity and targeted the red payload.

"Bombs away!" she called out as dropped a pulse bomb directly onto the bigger bomb.

The immediate explosion rocked the interior and sent people and body parts flying, wiping out most of the armed men near the bomb. The bomb itself was still afloat, however, its hull visibly damaged and the lights still glowing.

Nathan ran up to the bomb, his rifle still at the ready, as Lena blinked up to his side and inspected the explosive in front of them.

"God almighty, this thing's tough," she remarked, shaking her head. "Any idea of how we'll get rid of it?"

"If it's a bomb, we can disarm it," he stated, matter-of-factly. "Just need to figure out how."

Machine gun fired pinging off the red shell and nearly missing them caused them to spin around and see more mercs coming from behind, a few of them brandishing heavier firepower. Brin immediately started firing at them but retreated to cover behind the bomb. Oxton started blinking in and around of them, taking some out when the opportunity presented itself. The man with the rifle kept firing back from behind, the occasional burst of enemy fire forcing him back down. His unrelenting rifle fire and the feeling of his barrel getting scorching hot made him not notice from the person approaching him.

"Hello, friend!"

Nathan looked back, surprised, to see the floating Omnic from earlier there, somehow still seeming tranquil amidst the gunfire.

"The hell?!" the man exclaimed. "What are you doing here?!"

"Well, it appears the paths we have taken have led to the same goal," the machine ambiguously stated. "It is good to see that I am not alone in protecting the innocent."

The man couldn't but help raise an eyebrow at the machine, but that went away when he saw a figure approaching from behind.

He pushed the Omnic out of the way and tackled the man with the rifle. Pinning him to the ground, he saw it was the older mercenary from before, the one he saw give a speech to the rest of the group. He looked worse for wear, burned, and singed from Oxton's bomb minutes earlier. He gave the mask a dirty look.

"You bastard!" he cursed out, baring his teeth. "Betraying your species like this! Do you know what those damn things have do-!"

He got cut off as a blade sliced through his throat, causing blood to flood out and stain his pale skin. His eyes went wide as a death rattle was the last thing that escaped his lips. It was clear the man holding the knife didn't really care what he had to say. In his mind, people like him were a dime a dozen. It wasn't until the merc's head slumped back and his eyes glazed over did he finally retrieve his knife and got back up.

"A regrettable loss," the Omnic next to him murmured sorrowfully.

The man just looked at him with his red-eyes, wondering what he meant by that. The shockwave of an explosion and something bumping against the payload snapped their attention to the front. The man ran up and saw a more disheveled form of Agent Oxton lying on the floor, burn marks and black stains on her, trying to prop herself up with her arms. He bent down and tried to help her up, but she kept murmuring something.

"R-r-" she weakly lifted her arm and pointed ahead, Nathan following her finger. "RPG..."

The Courier's saw a figure in the distance holding the silhouette of a cylinder. He hastily brought up his handgun and unloaded his mag, dropping the figure as the pistol's slide locked back. Unfortunately, he fell to reveal another figure, holding another RPG and already having it aimed at them. The warhead rocketed towards them, the flame emanating from behind lighting the dark hallways. Nathan had little time as he took Lena's form and shielded it with his body, clenching his eyes shut.

" _Experience Tranquility!_ "

He heard the warhead go off, shaking the ground as it did. But he did not feel the flames washing over him, nor the shrapnel embedding into his skin. The Courier dared open his eyes and looked up, almost being blinded as a golden glow almost as bright as the sun shone in front of him. And in the center, was the Omnic, floating with multiple golden translucent arms coming out from behind him as he holds his actual arms to the sides, in a manner of hand gestures. The orbs that orbited his neck now formed a circle behind him, not deviating from their positions. Nathan could only stare in awe at what this robot was doing, questioning how it was enough to save them from an RPG. The soldier with the RPG looked equally befuddled, giving Nathan enough time to get his rifle and taking him down with a short burst.

After that and a few moments of silence other than the glowing humming of the Shambali Omnic, he let down his arms and his orbs went back to floating around his neck as the glow dissipated. The Courier stood up, breathing heavily as he looked around and surveyed all the damage. He looked down and saw Lena getting up, apparently feeling better all of the sudden as if her pain dissipated. He looked back and saw the bomb, active but with no more mercenaries to guide it to its destination. However, blue lights from farther away caused him to look ahead to the raised platforms on either side of the bomb's intended destination. Blue dots of varying number and patterns rose from the darkness, groups of them. They belonged to other Omnics, with some humans among their ranks, who had come out of hiding to see that they were all going to live another day. Thanks to the two humans and Omnic before them.

* * *

Crowds, man and machine alike, gathered around the orca colored dropship as they eagerly took in the sights of something that had been gone for so long. Many had their phones out, taking pictures or videos of as much as they could. Others, especially those further in the back, had to crane their necks and push people aside to even get a good view. One little girl in a light green sweater with a cartoon onion on it had the fortunate luck of sitting on her mom's shoulder, showing off a big grin as she cast her eyes upon a spiky-haired girl with a glowing chest piece.

On the other side, Nathan just waited patiently beside the dropship ramp, his arms crossed, as he watched Oxton and Wilhelm interact with the crowd; the latter doing poses in his armor for some reason. He looked to his left and saw Lena was waving at him, beckoning for him to come over. He raised an eyebrow, questioning why she wanted him to come over. The Courier shook his head, not wanting to leave where he was. She only beckoned further and didn't stop until the taller man groaned under his helmet and reluctantly walked over to where she was. When he got close enough, he saw who she was talking too. The blonde woman and the Omnic he saw at the bar. The woman who was almost raped.

"She wanted to talk to you," Tracer said to the Courier before she addressed the couple. "Go ahead, love."

The Courier looked at the woman, expectantly. The blonde was a bit hesitant until she looked back at her boyfriend, who placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Hi," she nervously greeted. "I… We just wanted to thank you for saving me from those men back there. Even if you were…"

"She's very grateful, mister," the Omnic spoke up, speaking for her. "And I don't know what I would be doing without her. So, again, thank you so much."

He regarded them with lethargy. Really, he just felt tired and wanted to get out of here, out of the cold.

"Your welcome," was all he uttered to them, barely being heard through his helmet's speaker before swiftly turning on his heels and going back to the ship. The small smile on the blonde's face faded away as she looked at her spouse uncertainly.

After the others said their goodbyes and waved to the crowd, the three finally got back onto the dropship and ascended off the ground. The crowd cheering for them as they blasted off.

In the cabin of the ship was the red hull of the bomb, deciding to bring it back to Winston for study and to make sure it didn't fall back into Talon's hands again. At the cockpit, the three were huddled around a holovid with the face of the gorilla.

"Mission accomplished, Winston!" Lena elatedly declared. "And it looks like we got our hands on some handy ordinance."

"That's great to hear! Good job!" their boss congratulated, grinning ear-to-ear. "Now, you just need to rendezvous to Germany to pick up the team I dispatched there, and you'll be back home in no ti- Who's that behind you?"

Confused, the three turn around and are shocked to see the Omnic Monk levitating there, contrasting them by looking serene as he always seemed.

"Hello!"

"The fuck?!" Nathan let out. "How did you get in here?"

"I let myself in," the machine answered. "I would like to offer my assistance."

"What? Why?" grumbled the low voice of Winston from the holo-chat. "Who are you?"

"I am Tekhartha Zenyatta, formerly of the Shambali Clan. Though, you may call me Zenyatta, if you wish. As for why I am here, I believe that our paths align to the same virtuous goal, so I wish to accompany the 'new Overwatch' and help it prosper, and in turn, the world. I am very sure you are all capable of such a task if earlier was any indication."

"Are you sure about that? This isn't something you can commit to on a whim. This job is dangerous, and you may just be risking your life the more you'll stay with us. Are you certain?"

"Shall I continue wandering throughout the world, helping only those I come across despite the suffering enveloping all around? Or should I be a part of something larger than myself? If accepting a monk into your ranks seems...  _Unorthodox_ , then think of me as a recruit, willing to do my part."

The cockpit became silent, uncertain of what to do with Zenyatta, offering his services as if on a dime. Obviously, they couldn't just throw the machine off the dropship, nor abandon him at the most convenient place to stop by and drop him off. They couldn't ignore that their ranks were thin, however...

"Well, it's an honor to meet a member of the Shambali," Lena said with a smile on her face. "Mondatta was an inspiration to me!"

"To us all!" Zenyatta responded warmly. "I miss him greatly, and I feel joining you in your endeavors will help bring the world closer to what he envisioned."

Again, there it was, more evidence of this schism between man and machine. While it did pale in comparison to the evidence they had sitting right in the cabin, it only made Nathan further wonder why there was such a divide between the two. Why are Omnics ridiculed, treated as badly if not worse than mutants back in California? What the hell was the "Omnic Crisis" he kept hearing about, that had claimed the lives of many loved ones? How long has it been since? But Nathan just kept his mouth shut this time.

"Well, I guess that's it then!" Reinhardt stated, patting Zenyatta on the back, causing his orbs to sway a bit. "Welcome aboard my metal friend!"

"Not so fast... Rendezvous with the team at Germany first, guys," Winston said, as he regarded the Omnic with hesitation. "And then we'll see."


	16. Regressing

Mojave Drive-In, Mojave Wasteland

2285

The Sun had dipped close to the mountains as Veronica crouched next to the damaged hull of the Big Mountain satellite as she thoroughly took it apart, with a set of tools by her side. Parmley was crouched around a campfire he set up close-by and was currently boiling something in a kettle as he poked at the fire, Cooper watching tentatively. Boone was on perimeter lookout with Rex, scanning the horizon for anything that needed to be shot before it could reach them. No such dangers thus far, thankfully, other than a couple marauding molerats.

Parmley produced a metal cup and brought it to the spout of the kettle, pouring the boiling contents in about half-way. He stood up and went over to Veronica, crouching down to her side. Bits of tech strewn about around her, her eyes focused on the task at hand as she expertly operated the tools at hand. He tapped her on the shoulder, breaking her train of thought and making her look at the man next to her.

"Here," the Ranger offered, the cup being extended to her. "Though you might you need it."

"Thank you," the Scribe responded, smiling gratefully as she took the cup in her dirtied hand and brought it up to her lips. "Mmm! Not bad!"

Parmley returned a smile at the gesture of gratitude, but that went away as the woman immediately went back to work on the satellite, despite working on it ever since they got to the Drive-In hours ago. When the Sun was still hanging in the air.

"Don't you want to take a breather?" he asks, concerned with how long she's been at it. "You've been working on that thing non-stop."

"I'll rest when we'll find Nathan," Veronica states, wiping some sweat from her brow.

"Speaking of Nathan; How'd you meet him, anyway?"

Veronica paused from her work to look at Parmley for a moment, before returning to what she to the console.

"Right place at the right time, I guess," she answered earnestly. "I was at the 188 Trading Post when he just wandered in one day. We struck up a conversation, and I tagged with him shortly after. All there was to it."

"Really?" he asked, a bit surprised at how uneventful that seemed. "Didn't need to convince him or anything? Just let you tag along?"

"Well, I may have had to do some sexual favors so he could get to know me, but you can't blame the big guy, y'know? My ass hurts thinking about it."

She looked back at Parmley to see him wide-eyed, his cheeks getting redder as his eyes darted around the place. The woman in the Follower's coat smirked and let out a snicker, confusing the man even more.

"Nah, I'm just kidding!" Veronica clarified, grinning madly. "About the last part, at least. I don't really swing that way."

"Good to know, I guess," Parmley said, still unsure what to think. "What about you being with the Brotherhood? What he did he think about that?"

"Surprisingly, he wasn't too bothered by that. He actually felt more comfortable knowing he would be traveling with someone who knew how to hold their own. Nathan even helped me on a couple of occasions. Or, tried his best, at least."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, for starters, I  _used_  to be apart of the Brotherhood. It's kinda like having a falling out with your family, who happens to live in a hole in the ground, and Nathan tried to help me fix it and get the Brotherhood back into shape. But..."

Veronica sulked a bit, pausing from her work as she sighed tiredly and took the warm beverage to her mouth again.

"Didn't exactly pan out the way you wanted, though, did it? Sorry, to hear that."

"Eh, no worries," the ex-Scribe shrugged it off and went back to her tools. "Besides, they're still alive, being a bit less like hermits than before. And my technical skills are being used for things other than guns that turn people into glowing piles of goo. For example..."

As she said those words, she plants her hands inside the satellite's hull and pulls, something inside rattling as she did so. Then, a black box was slowly inching its way out of the hull, until it finally popped out and knocked Veronica on her bum from the force. Parmley helps her to her feet, and they both examine the piece of equipment retrieved from the advanced Pre-War machine. Being shielded from the satellite's initial impact and the wasteland under a metal shell, the black box was relatively unscathed. The ex-Scribe smiled, clearly happy at what she found. The Ranger was clueless, though.

"Uh, what is that?" he asked, going up and examining it.

"This is the onboard computer," she explained. "Well, I think it is. This should tell us the data we need to figure out where Nathan is. Or, at least to where this thing sent him."

"How are we going to figure that out?"

"I know a place - up north - not too far from Goodsprings, in fact. If I can get this thing there, we should be able to pinpoint where Nathan's ass is."

"So, you wanna head out? Sun's still up, but not for long."

She looked to see that the big ball of fire was still hanging in the sky, but was getting closer and closer to the horizon. She didn't really want to waste as much time as possible, and looking at the pile of bodies they had clear didn't help convince her to camp here for the night.

"Primm's not far," she stated. "How 'bout we stop there for the night? I heard the Bison Steve Hotel's been spruced up a bit."

* * *

The search party found themselves wandering again, to the north and following the highway to the town of Primm. However, as they neared the underpass that separated the town, they noticed an unusually high amount of activity on the western side. A company of NCR soldiers was camped out, some of them running drills while others were running around carrying supplies and equipment of all sorts. Other than the unusually high number of troops in one small area, what was also unusual was the presence of T-51b Power Armor units towering among them, none of them bearing the mark of the Two-Headed Bear but of the Brotherhood of Steel. They all seemed to be on high-alert as their superiors barked orders left and right, sending the armed men where they needed to be. They were troops being sent west from their camp, but they did not know where. They then reached what seemed to be a checkpoint with an NCR trooper and a BoS Paladin posted, and there was a line of caravanners. As they approach, a man in a green beret halts them.

"Hold on, now," he says, holding up a hand. "I'm sorry, no one's allowed to go further up North on the account of... Hey, haven't I seen you two before?"

The trooper looks at Craig and Veronica, who both stare at the man and try to recollect where they've seen him before. Boone was the first one to have it click in his head.

"Lieutenant Hayes, isn't it?" the 1st Recon sniper asks, barely remembering him. "Yeah, we've met before."

"Hold on," Veronica says, bringing the conversation back in line. "Why can't we go further up North? Is there a problem?"

"Yes, ma'am," the LT answers. "We've received reports of...  _Something_  in this area. There have been attacks on settlers and travelers alike. So, a detachment has been sent here to contain the situation."

That answer wasn't enough for the group, who all looked at each other with uncertainty. Ever since Hoover Dam, the Mojave has calmed down significantly and wasn't the pressure-cooker it was. Things were starting to look up for the residents, ever since the Legion was kicked out and the raiders were almost wiped out. This outpost was more than an anomaly.

"Is that it?" Veronica question further, unsatisfied with the trooper's answer. "Just ' _something_ '? If it's just something, why is there a joint-operation between the NCR and Brotherhood here? Surely, you don't need all of that firepower for  _'something'_!?"

The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes at the woman before he sighed. He shook his head as he looked around, peering over his own shoulder. He went over to them, getting closer and gesturing them to huddle around him.

"Alright, I'll throw you a bone here," Lt. Hayes said in a hushed tone. "And only because of our mutual  _friend_. To be honest, I don't know what we're dealing with here. I thought we were being sent to deal with raiders or a Legion detachment. But you're right, this is too much for nothing."

"Any ideas what?" the Scribe asks, also in hushed tone.

"Nope. Only that it has something to do with  _The Divide_."

"The Divide?! What the hell could be there?"

"You tell me. I'm just a soldier, ma'am. Brass doesn't tell me shit."

Instead of answering the question of what this supposed "threat" the NCR in the Mojave was facing, it only added more questions. Sure as hell didn't help that it blocked the route they needed to travel through.

"Well, speaking of our mutual friend..." Veronica let out. "Would you be willing to let us through? The reason we came down here is because we're looking for him."

"What do you mean looking?" the LT asks, his brows furrowing. "Is he missing?"

"I wish I could tell you, and that's why we need to go through. So, are you willing to throw another bone for us?"

Hayes looks at Veronica, clearly hesitant on what to do. He pinches the bridge of his nose before he looks around and again.

"How early are you guys planning to leave?" he asks, once again in a hushed tone.

"As early as we can," Boone answered for the group.

"Alright, I could make that work. There will be a rotation for the guard at dawn. Meet me at the casino before that time and I should be able to sneak you out."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now, go get some rest at the Bison. It's actually a hotel, now."

The party made their way into Primm, unfortunately having their plans diced but still hoping to check into the dilapidated hotel. As Boone said, they'll be getting back on the move the earliest they can. They had to. Unbeknownst to them, a Paladin silently watched the search party go, his eyes hidden beneath the black visor of his helm.

* * *

Germany, Europe

2076

As the dropship lowered itself onto the grass field outside of a quaint looking village, its bay door opened to reveal Reinhardt without his armor looking down on two individuals on the ground, one in a blue leather jacket and the other in a long dark hood. They were waiting for the ship to land before walking up the ramp.

"I hope the 'Dragons' did not give you too much trouble," Reinhardt said to them, boastfully. "I did soften them up for you."

"You should've cleaned them up when you had the chance," Morrison stated, tossing a pair of circular, yellow tinted goggles with blood stains on them to him. "I think you're starting to get sloppy."

"Hmph, says you," Ana said, smirking as she walked alongside him.

Getting inside the cabin, they are immediately greeted by the sight of the red bomb procured from King's Row, hovering in the middle of the ship and taking up a lot of space. The two get close to it and examines its damaged hull as they feel the dropship take to the air.

"Huh, looks familiar," the soldier notes as he rubs a gloved hand over it. "Kinda reminds you of the ones we snuck into the Omniums, doesn't it?"

"Quite," Ana replied, looking over the ordinance with her one eye.

However, their reminiscing is cut short as they twirl around with their weapons at the ready and to the floating Omnic that still kept his composure even with rifle muzzles pointed at him. Behind the Omnic was Nathan, still in his black armor and staring blankly in their direction, and Lena.

"Sorry, about that guys," Lena meekly said, as she rubbed the back of her head. "We got a stowaway... Say hi to Zenyatta."

The two old soldiers exchanged looks, a bit taken by surprise by the monk before them. They looked back at Zenyatta, a bit more relaxed but still suspicious.

"Hey..."

" _Ahlan."_

"Peace be upon you!" the Omnic says to them, waving his hand in a circular motion. "I apologize if my presence seems like an intrusion, but I assure you, I will not be a problem."

"I hope so," the Soldier said. "Seems like this job gets more interesting by every day."

Their ship flies over German airspace, making its way back to Gibraltar. As Lena and the rest of the Overwatch team were in the cockpit, Nathan and Zenyatta occupied booth seats.

The former was taking a gander at one of the books provided by the ship, while the latter sat silently on the seats, his head bowed down and the orbs circling him and periodically "pinging" in the and making symbols appear when they did so. The man did get a bit distracted from that, wondering how the machine was able to do that but shrugged it off as another technology mystery this world had for him. He tried to instead focus on the pages of the book, trying to ignore what the machine was doing. It kept being distracting, however, and he wanted to ask the robot if he could do it somewhere else. But the machine beat him to the punch.

"Is something wrong?" Zenyatta hummed out, still fixed in his position.

"Wrong? No, it's just that... That 'thing' you're doing is kinda distracting, that's all."

"Hmm... Well, I apologize for that. And I do not mean it to be so. Though, I suspect it is distracting for reasons other than sound, is it?"

The man in black armor scowled Zenyatta under his helmet.

"Jesus, you just seem to pick up on everything, don't you?" the Wastelander says, shaking his helmeted head.

The Omnic chuckles, his form slightly shaking as he reverts from his meditative state.

"Once again, I'm sorry if it seems so," the Monk apologizes as he regards Nathan. "It's just that I sense so many things within you. Curious things. Also, despite seeming so human, you come across as such an outsider that even I am somewhat perplexed."

"What do you mean by that?" Brin asks, rather incredulously.

"You just seem... Out of place. As if you are meant to be somewhere else. Your unsettled spirit urging you to wander, much like me. But at the same time, wander not in this world."

Now, the Courier was just staring at Zenyatta, his expressionless visor peering at the monk's equally neutral faceplate. His eyes then fell to his left forearm, where the screen of the Pip-Boy greeted him.

"What gave it away?" he asks, as he lifts his left arm and rotates the computer, examining its shell.

"Other than the strange technology you possess that I can barely if at all, establish a connection to," the Metallic Monk explained. "The way you act, your mannerisms, and your cluelessness about the world around you gave some hints. You must have quite the story to tell."

"Depends on who wants to listen to it."

Before Zenyatta could continue the conversation, red lights and alarms started blaring throughout the cabin. Nathan immediately jumped to his feet, wondering what the hell was going on. That was when Athena's voice came over the intercom.

"Unidentified Aircraft approaching! Repeat, Unidentified Aircraft approaching! All agents, strap in!"

Nathan's mind started to race as he was trying to remember what he was told to do in case of these situations, remembering what Dr. Ziegler told him before he boarded the dropship for his first mission. He looked to the ship's right side and saw the chairs with mechanical bars over them. He ran over to one of them, the closest to the bay door, and lodged himself in as he brought the metal bar down over his chest. Zenyatta soon joined him, occupying the seat next to him. Then, Jack and Ana ran over to the chairs adjacent to theirs and strapped themselves in.

"Hang on, everybody!" Lena yelled over the intercom.

They all felt the ship rumble through the air, the turbulence rocking the inside of the cabin as Lena piloted the aircraft. Performing evasive maneuvers as best she could with a big whale of a ship. Then, a grating beeping noise started to emanate from the cockpit, becoming more rapid in its frequency the longer it went on until it became an obnoxious ticking.

"Deploying flares!"

The sound of the flares being deployed and the subsequent detonation of an explosion rocked the cabin even more, also rocking the people strapped in.

"Son of a bitch!" Nathan yelled as he was knocked about in his seat.

Then, more beeping sounded from the cockpit, signaling another missile was locked onto them. At that, the dropship became more erratic in its movement, swaying and dipping to the side and making everyone feel dizzy. The sound of more flares and another explosion perforated the air again, but much closer. Too close.

"Don't worry everyone, we'll get through this!"

As if on cue, machine gun fire started to pelt the hull of the ship, metal being torn apart. The rounds, large enough to indicate they were from a cannon, pierced the hull and bounced around the cabin. A burst of cannon fire pervaded the bottom of the ship and landed a hit on the door's hydraulics, the machine soon failing. The damage forced the door wide open, the sound of wind and turbulence deafening the inside of the ship. Anything that wasn't secured was flying out of the door, the cabin becoming depressurized. More cannon fire struck the dropship, and narrowly missing Nathan. Unfortunately, it grazed the bar on his chair and set him loose, almost out of the doorway. With his right hand, he tried to pull himself back into the cabin, but the force of the air and the accelerating ship were too great. He spotted a silver hand reaching out to him.

"Grab on, my friend!" Zenyatta called out, inching closer to him as best he could.

Gritting his teeth, he reached his left hand, trying to inch himself closer and closer to salvation. However, he noticed something big coming for him from the left and saw the red mass of the bomb falling towards him.

"Shit!" he yelled as he let go, narrowly losing his arm as the bomb slammed into where he, and now found himself tumbling through the air.

The Courier screamed as he spun through the air, catching glimpses of the ship in the sky, getting farther and farther from him. He struggled to orient himself to look to the ground and saw nothing but green beneath him. He barely had time to react as he crashed into the tree line, his body hitting branches, leaves, and pines hard. He plummeted further down the woods, snapping branches, and bouncing off branches alike. Every impact, even with his armor, punished him wherever it hit the solid wood. He could also feel vegetation cutting him, mostly at the unarmored parts of his legs, slicing away and drawing blood. And after what seemed like an eternity of abuse, he plunged down to the forest floor. The last thing he saw were the flowers his face landed on.

* * *

_Hours later..._

Winds howling and insects chirping were the first noises Nathan heard when he laid there on the ground, although, they were muffled under his helmet. He stirred awake, shuffling his head and arms. However, the more he regained consciousness, the more he regained sensation across his body, and was meet with pain everywhere. The first noises to come out of his mouth were groans of agony, as he tried to lift himself up with his arms until a sharp pain pierced his left arm, forcing him to go limp with it. He lifted his head as best he could, and looked around the darkness of the forest floor, barely seeing the silhouettes of tree trunks in front of him. With his right hand, he flips on his helmet's low-lights vision. He looks around again and sees a tree around five meters away from him, the closest one. He tries to get up, only his right arm for support. He collapses to the ground again as more sharp pain in his right leg prevents him from standing. The Courier grunts in frustration and pounds the earth, before shaking his head and dragging himself to the trunk, leaving a trail of disturbed vegetation. After an agonizing two minutes and probably opening more wounds on his legs, he finally reached the salvation of the tree trunk, orienting himself to sit against its body.

The Courier just sits there, gasping for air with his eyes closed, his breathing becoming steadier as both arms stay limp at his sides. After catching his breath for around five minutes, he brings his working arm up to his helmet and grabs it by the chin to remove it from his head. His sweaty face was immediately greeted by a cool breeze blowing against it, his hair looking more like a rat's nest. The Courier looked down to his Pip-Boy, grabbing his left arm with his right to lift it so he could see the screen. He grimaced doing so, pain pervading his arm as he moved it until he finally plopped the computer on his lap. Pressing a button, the screen illuminates and casts a radius of light around him like a lantern. A bit blinded, he rubs his eyes before looking back at the machine and examining the screen. A pained grimace became replaced with an irritated scowl.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, rubbing a gloved hand over the Pip-Boy screen's right side, that now sported a crack after his tumble. Other than that, the computer still seemed functional.

Pressing that "Stats" button, the screen displayed a report of the damage across his body in the form of the very familiar Vault-Boy. The character didn't have a happy expression, as it showed his left arm and right leg outlined in segmented dashes.

"Left arm - Crippled... Right leg - Crippled..." he read the information on the screen. "... No shit..."

His right hand goes around his waist, combing his person for anything of aid. Reaching into a pocket and his palm wraps around a couple objects. He takes them out and lays him on the floor. Four Stimpaks. Better than three, but not nearly as good as five.

He takes one of the syringes and lurches forward, giving him a good view of his cut-up legs, the pants were torn where blood was seeping out. Right leg was the priority, so he injected the Pre-War chemicals into that limbs and soon felt the pain slowly subside and could feel the wounds start to close. It will take some time for the bones to heal, but he didn't exactly have to be anywhere now. He grabs another syringe and brings it to his left arm. Rolling up his sleeve to expose the skin, he injects the Stim into his left arm and once again feels the chems flowing through the needle and into his, the pain soon subsiding as well. He decides to leave the rest of the lacerations to the Monocyte Breeder inside of him. Though, that will take some time before any noticeable changes.

As he laid there, his breathing became much steadier and less forced than before, an odd sense of bliss washes over him. For once, he felt like he wasn't going to be completely in the shit. Falling through the air and into a forest was a new experience, but dealing with two broken limbs wasn't the worst he's dealt with. However, the more Nathan thought about it, the more he realized the predicament he found himself in. The Courier didn't know where he was. And he didn't know where everyone else was, either.

Scrambling to his helmet and wincing as his limbs haven't fully healed yet, the Courier plants his signature headwear atop his head and operates the built-in radio.

"Hello?!" he calls out over the comms. "It's Brin! I'm still alive! Can anyone hear me?!"

He is met with the silence of static as his response.

"Oxton? Wilhelm? Athena? Anyone?!"

More static.

"…Fuck me."

* * *

It was quickly becoming daytime as the morning sun slowly shined through the forest canopy, illuminating the forest floor. After giving himself the ample amount of time for his body to heal, Nathan decided that being on the move and covering as much ground as possible was currently the best option. He conducted an inventory count and saw he had his .45 with a couple of mags, his combat knife, two grenades, a pack of smokes, a lighter, the two remaining Stimpaks, his Vault 13 canteen, and a candy bar he got while in Britain. Other than that, and the armor he had on his back, he was surely underequipped compared to what he usually had on him. It didn't help that his Pip-Boy told him he was in Germany, but it was annoyingly unspecific on where exactly in the country he was.

His stomach grumbling was also another bad omen to add to the pile, which was why he had three longs sticks he found with him. They were about a meter in length, and two of them already had one of their ends sharpened into a white pointy tip. The third he was currently working on, shaving away bark at the end with his combat knife at a rapid pace. After about a minute of stripping away the bark, he brought the sharp tip up to his face and examined it. The sides looked unevenly shaved, the head looked a bit lopsided, and the tip was pointing a bit to the side instead of straight ahead. He hasn't made a makeshift spear in years, and it showed.

"Ain't like what mom showed me," the Tribal remarked, blowing away the excess shavings. "But it'll have to do."

So, he began to wander, but not towards any specific direction - his gear and spears in tow. He just hoped the direction would lead him to something - whether it was food or a way to communicate with Overwatch. That objective was on his mind.

However, about half an hour into his journey through the German wilderness the Courier couldn't but help look around his surroundings, now clearer in the sunlight than they were hours earlier. He was astonished to see so much bright green pervading his vision everywhere he looked. Of the two or three forests he'd ever set foot in, this one was easily the most fertile, the liveliest. Everywhere he walked - instead of trudging over brown, hardened dirt - he walked upon soft soil covered in grass, flowers, and weeds that brushed up against his sand stricken boots. The noise of the insects chittering, the birds chirping, the animals calling was almost deafening to his ears. He craned his neck up to look at the treetops, the trees taller and thicker than any tree he's ever seen, taller than any of the pines at Mount Charleston. Seeing all of this, the New Californian started to wonder if the California on this Earth had forests much like this one. If it had the giant Sequoias and Redwoods that reached high to the sky and had imposing trunks, almost the size of rooms. Untouched by the fallout of his world. That'd be something.

His stomach growling broke him out of that thought and reminded him he needs to find food soon. Not wanting to waste any more energy looking for food, he decides that waiting for food to come to him would be the most energy conservative way of going about hunting. He brings out the candy bar and snaps it in half, and crumbles one of the halves onto the ground below, sprinkling it around him. Wiping his hand, he surveys the landscape, soon spotting a tree that the sun was shining through. It wasn't nearly as big as the others and had large enough branches that could support his weight. Not to mention, being high up in the air would probably conceal his scent, letting it waft in the air rather than on the ground. Nathan goes over to it, fastens his spears to the belt around his waist, and scales the trunk. The Tribal fumbles a bit, having difficulty with his footing and a still weak, shaky leg. Nonetheless, he makes it to a branch.

Brin waits there, holding the spears in his lap and keeping his eyes focused on where he set the bait and the area around it. Honestly, sitting up there somewhat uncomfortably and trying his best to not make a sound was agonizing more than it should be. The more Nathan waited, waiting for anything to take the "bait", the more his mind started to wander much like he did. It was hard to stay focused on the task at hand. It wasn't long until he started thinking about the rest of them, wondering if Zenyatta and the others were able to survive. And if they did, were they searching for him? Or did they presume him to be dead? Not exactly an unlikely conclusion to draw when you see someone fall from an aircraft and plummet hundreds of feet to the ground. Hell, it's probably the conclusion Dr. Ziegler would've made if they told her what had happened. Shame, he didn't get to listen to her story.

The sound of rustling shook him from his stupor and sat him up on the branch. He slowly grabbed a spear and brought it up above his shoulder, waiting for his prey to cross his vision. Finally, a four-legged hooved creature came into view and Nathan tightened his grip on the spear but held. The animal had a tan-brown coat and a slender, pointed head with a black noise at the tip. Two black eyes were on both sides of its head, under two big ears that were emotive and swiveled in place. It had no horns, though. It had its nose to the ground, clearly smelling the crumbs he left on the ground. It looked like a deer, and not like the freaks of nature back home that had too many limbs.

The Courier raised his spear slightly higher, trying to gauge the distance and the force he would need to apply. He waited because if he rushed he would likely miss and scare it. On the other hand, if he waited too long, the doe might lap up all the crumbs for itself and prance away, leaving him nothing but an empty stomach. Nathan rotated his body, tightened his grip around the spear. Biding his time, and waiting until the doe was completely enamored by the candy he left. Then, as fast as a dashing Cazador, his arm rocketed forward and the spear flew, hitting the deer. However, he veered a bit to the left and he missed its chest and instead impaled its backside. Not even a second later, the deer sprinted off with the stick still lodged inside it. Nathan immediately got off and landed on the floor, but winced as pain shot up right leg. He shrugged it off and gave chase to the animal. As fast as his body permitted him.

Half-an-hour had already passed into the chase, following whatever trail the deer left behind. Hoofprints, shredded fur, disturbed vegetation, and splatters of blood guided the Tribal to his prey. It was fast - very fast - he'll give it that. But if the Courier is a seasoned traveler of long distances and the amount of blood she's spilled were any indication, it wouldn't be long until he tracked it down. Though, he felt like he's been running in a circle, seeing what looked like the same tree and the same bush for the fifth time. Breathing became a bit labored, sweating slightly as he lugged two sticks in his left hand and navigated the terrain with the other. Then, he noticed a trail of blood, the spaces in between the stains being shorter and more frequent. Like bounties when they're wounded and trying to get away. The hunter smirked under his mask. It was getting weaker. It shouldn't be long now.

"Heh," he huffed under his mask. "Arroyo did teach me well."

Ten minutes following the trail, Nathan found himself in a clearing within the forest. He looked around until his eyes landed on a tree stump, and at the base was a brown lump on the ground that was slightly moving. He bounded over to it and slowed down as he got around five meters from it. Its back was to him, it was still breathing but weakly. He walked over to the deer and stood over it, seeing the spear still lodged in its calf as it gasped for air through its mouth, its tongue hanging out. Nathan kneels and sets the extra spears aside, pulling out his knife as he does so. However, he doesn't immediately bring the blade down but takes off a glove and begins to rub his hand over her coat. He was curious to know what deer hide felt like, unchanged by mutation. It had no blemishes on it, no leathery patches devoid of fur, or bulbous growths infecting it. It was sort of soft, a bit rougher than he expected. After a few moments of feeling the coat, he decided he made the animal suffer enough.

"Sorry, I didn't give you a clean death," he apologized, leaning over its body to get to its jugular.

The grazer barely resisted as the Tribal jutted that knife down and slit its throat, letting blood pour out in pints. After some minor convulsions, the deer finally calmed down and laid limp on the forest floor. He retrieved his spear from its body and laid it down with the others. After that business, he began wiping his blade across the deer's coat to wipe the blood off. However, as Nathan looked up from the corpse, he immediately noticed something odd. The stump that it stopped at was splintered and the rest of the tree was fallen to its side. It wasn't the only one, as there were other stumps around him, all of them fractured and splintered as their respective bodies were also to the sides, but they looked like they were torn apart and not that the trees fell down of their own volition. He took a closer look at the one he was next to and saw something shiny. He reached over and picked it up, bringing the copper-colored object closer to his eyes. It was a bullet, slightly malformed, and it looked bigger than even a .50 BMG!

The man in the black armor looked around, more on edge as he was wary that whatever caused this could still be here. Flicking the round away, he grabbed the deer by the legs and hoisted it over his shoulders. He leaves the field of dead trees, not wanting to be caught in the open.

* * *

More hours pass, and it was already getting dark as Nathan was starting to set up "camp" in a fairly clear patch of woodland. With his armor set aside against a log and his duster folded next to it, Nathan was in his white shirt and jeans as he crouched next to a pile of sticks and wood block covered in leaves and grass, surrounded by stones. He had a rock in one hand and his knife in the other, trying to light it with the sparks when he struck the two together. Sure, he had a lighter and would be easier to start it with just that, but he didn't want to waste what little oil could be inside. Besides, it was a nice refresher course for the "ways of his people", or something like that. Even though this is far from the first situation he's been forced to rely on what the village taught him. After a few more sparks, the kindling under the logs started to smoke. Setting aside his knife and rock, he bends down and gently blows air towards the little flame, making it bigger and brighter until it grew into a proper campfire. He then brought over the deer, or what's left of it, wrapped in a spare bandana he had at his side - presenting an assortment of chunks and slabs he could choose from. Unfortunately, because he did not have the proper tools, impaling them on a stick and roasting them over the fire was his only option of cooking.

As he cooked his venison on a stick, the Courier listened to the sound of the forest accompany that of his campfire. Insects like crickets still chirped, but the only birds making noise were the owls. Nathan thought more about his isolation again and wondered if he was the only human in this forest for miles. Zion and Mount Charleston led him to believe tourists always visited places like this, the last vestiges of nature in the world. Or, maybe that only applied to his world, where its forests were ravaged generations ago for the war effort. Did the "Omnic Crisis" ever have such an impact on this world? He didn't know because he still didn't know what the hell it is in the first place.

Questions in need of answers. He always had those. Now, he just had a belly to fill.

* * *

The morning sun once again shined through the forest canopy and cast light wherever it was permitted to touch. A beam of light did land on the long-extinguished campfire, still smoldering. Sleeping against the log, Nathan wrapped himself with his duster and had his helmet upon his head - some protection is better than none - as his chest calmly rose up and down as he slept. On the ground next to him was his M1911, still in its holster but with a round chambered and the hammer cocked with the safety engaged. However, unbeknownst to the sleeping man, his campsite caught the attention of a small, greenish-yellow avian creature that hopped around him curiously.

The little bird scampered all over, pecking at anything it pleased. It hopped on the log the man was resting against, and it wasn't long until it hopped on the metal dome, never seeing something like it before. It picks at the helmet, tries to take the small antennae to no avail, and eventually flies down to the side of the mask, landing on one of the circular shapes protruding from its mouth. It looks at the red visor, trying to peer inside before he gives it a few pecks with his beak. Nothing happens, so he gives a few more pecks.

The tapping stirs the man awake, slowly opening his eyes and being greeted by a green blob staring at his left eye. Nathan shakes his head, making the bird fly away as he took off his helmet and started rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. After he does that, Nathan stands up and tries to figure out where that bird went. He soon spotted something yellow through the air and tracked it as it landed on something. Something's hand.

The man's eyes widened in surprise as he watched the bird land on the finger of a tall, bulky robot with a rectangular head with a blue line as an eye. It was covered in greenery and appeared to have plants growing all over it. Nathan froze, not wanting to make sudden movements and set it off. It seemed the robot was too focused on the feathered critter on its hand, but that didn't help as he saw that one of its hands looked very similar to a gun. Slowly, while keeping an eye on the machine, his hand carefully went to where his sidearm as he lowered himself and further and further and further to the ground. Just as it was inches away from the grip, he heard a noise.

"Zwee?"

He looked up and saw the machine was no longer addressing his feathered friend but was staring directly at him with its single blue eye. Nathan glanced at his pistol before back at the bipedal robot.

"Uh-"

Without warning, the machines eye turned bright red and jutted its arm-gun towards the man with a metallic clank. The man immediately held up his left hand to it.

"Woah woah woah woah woah! Calm down! Jesus Christ!"

The machine still kept its barrel pointed at him. The Courier stared at him, his heart racing. He eyed the machine over, noticing how it was significantly taller than him and had some sort of protrusion on its back, with multiple cylinders within it.

'Oh shit,' he cursed in his mind, realizing it was a huge minigun. 'He's the one who chopped down all those trees, did he?'

Man and Machine stared at each other until the man notice its head look to his bottom right before looking back at the man. He looked down to see that the handgun was what he was looking at, his hand still close to it. Looking back at the robot, Nathan slowly stood up and raised his right hand away from the gun. Noting how the barrel followed his movements. After standing up to his full height and still being dwarfed by the bot, he held up his right hand to it, gesturing with an open palm. It looked at his hand for a second before looking back at his face, still with a red eye.

"See? No gun," he stated, trying to appeal to the machine. "I'm not gonna try and hurt you, as long as you don't hurt me... Alright?"

They kept staring at each other but the machine kept looking back and forth between his hand and Nathan's face. After several long moments of him repeating this behavior, its eye started flashing red and blue until it finally became settled on blue and the machine lowered its arm-gun. Nathan kept his hands up, wary of what the machine will do next. He sees its head swivel and looks at his open palm again before it looks down at its own metal hand. It closes and opens it fingers, repeating the action a few times. The robot looks back up at Nathan and his hand and then held an open palm to the man.

"Beedoo beedoo!" it sounded out, opening and closing his palm as if to signify a greeting.

Dumbfounded, Nathan just waved his already floating hand back at it.

"Uhh... Hi."

Not long after this exchange, the bird flew back into view landed on its shoulder with something in its beak. The bird planted it into a nest it was building on the automaton's shoulder plate, the automaton watching all the while. As it finished, the robot let out a series of noises, as if it sounds elated at the bird's work. Nathan just rubbed his face, exhausted.

"I always find the fuckin' weirdos..."


	17. Remains

Germany, Europe

2076

The robot curiously peeked over Nathan's shoulder and watched as the man gathered his gear and adorned his black armor and duster. The bird was also watching intently, perched upon the minigun on its robotic friend's back. That was a rather precarious spot for the little critter to be on.

The man finished packing his gear and was ready to set out but he turned around and saw the robot towering above him, looking down at him with its head turned to the side like a curious puppy. Looking at its rusted hull and the flora growing all over it, Nathan imagined it must have been out here for some time. Why, though? Why was a robot, formidably armed and apparently capable of chopping down rows of trees, out here in the forests of Germany? And how long has it been out here? It didn't look nearly as humanoid-like as Zenyatta, so he couldn't tell if it was an Omnic or just some ordinary robot. Whatever counted as an "ordinary robot" in this world.

The Waster just shook his head and walked away from the machine. He already had enough problems to deal with and he doubted a hermit robot could help him much. Other than bringing unwarranted attention.

"Bwoo bwoo?" the robot uttered out, making Nathan turn around to address it.

"Pardon?"

"Bwoo bwoo?" it repeated, signifying curiosity in its "tone".

"I'm just going anywhere but here," the human clarified, already getting back on the trail. "Now, as much as I'd like to stay and chat I have to cover as much ground as I can- Wait."

He stopped himself, holding an open palm in front of him and looking back up at the machine. It couldn't see it under his mask, but Nathan's face had bewilderment on it as he realized something about the sounds the machine made. It sounded… Familiar.

"Did I just understand you?" he asked, wondering if he'll understand what else will come out of the machine.

"Dwoo yoo?" it asked, the words somehow making sense to Nathan.

"Yeah. I think I did. Huh."

Indeed, the boops and beeps this bipedal robot were speaking sounded vaguely like the speech of Eyebots. Not completely the same, but enough for him to understand the machine's speech. The Courier now saw a window of opportunity and that he might need to ask another metallic automaton for assistance on a journey. He walks up to the machine, warily and carefully, before addressing it.

"So, if I can understand you," the human says, looking the robot in the eye. "And if you've been in this forest for some time. Maybe you could help me, then?"

"Ooo wzz?" it asks.

"Yeah, I'm lost. I'm trying to get into contact with some friends of mine but I don't exactly have the right tools for it. Wondering if you knew of any place nearby that could possibly help?"

"Boo doo woo zwee?"

"I don't know… A town, maybe? Somewhere that might have communications equipment. Do you know of any place like that?"

The robot turns its head to the other side as if suggesting he was thinking over the man's question. Or, whether he wanted to help him at all. The automaton stood there, its eye unblinking as it just stared at Nathan. Nathan couldn't but help notice the bird in all of this, tending to a nest on the robot's armored shoulder.

The robot then lets out a high-pitched chirp and nodded its head, apparently agreeing to help the human in front of it. The man in the black armor silently felt relieved, taking some solace in the fact that he wasn't completely alone in this. He wasn't a stranger working with robots, after all.

"Thanks," he said, showing his gratitude until another question popped up in his mind. "What's your name, anyway? If you even have one?"

"Zwoo?" it asked, indicating it was confused about something.

"A name, like what people call you. Do you have anything like that?"

It looked up, trying to come up with an answer as it sifted through its memory, then looking back down and regard the man with a response.

"Boo doo weedoo eedoo vwee beeplehlehleh eefweety foo."

"SST– what? That's quite a mouthful. Anything else that's shorter?"

It once again dipped its head to the side, trying to find anything else in its mind. It came up with another response. Much shorter one.

"Bee woo cheche."

"' _Bastion Unit'_ , huh? That what you guys are called? How about Bastion?"

The "Bastion" surprisingly beeps in a jovial tone, like a child. Approving of its newfound name. Nathan watches it address its feathered friend by letting it land on its metallic hand. It is a colorful specimen, probably the most colorful he's seen. He'd probably have to come up with a name for that bird, too if it was going to stick around.

"Alright, let's get a move on…  _Bastion_ ," the Courier uncertainty said, already antsy to get out of there. But before he could go on, it sounded out from behind him once more.

"Ooh woo?"

"Nathan. Name's Nathan."

* * *

They traveled through the forest, Bastion taking the lead as it said there was a human settlement on its map and followed the waypoints laid out for it. The robot "said" it was close, but it couldn't really give a distance. It apparently wasn't familiar with any system of human measurements, for some reason. Didn't bother the man too much, only if they got there before sundown.

While his boots lightly thumped against the forest soil, Bastion's "feet" clanked as they did so. The sound of hydraulics and motor systems humming with almost every movement the machine made. The noise reminded the Courier of Protectrons, how loud they were anytime they tried getting anywhere. Sounding like a box of scraps falling down a set of stairs. At least this model of robot was much more fluid in its movement, but Nathan was wary that the mechanical noises would attract some unwanted attention in the forest. At this point, they had been walking for a couple of hours and they haven't seen another soul since. They were probably the only human and robot for miles around. It's a wonder that the bot even found the man in the first place.

Still, the Waster wondered what Bastion even was.

"So, Bastion," he said aloud, trying to garner the machine's attention. "Are you… An Omnic?"

Bastion turned around – correction, its top half did as the legs kept on walking – and let out a quizzical beep at the question.

"An Omnic," Brin repeated. "Is that what you are?"

There was silence from the machine other than the sound of its footsteps before it raised its shoulder plates and let out uncertain beeping as it didn't really know what that was. Or didn't have a complete understanding of what the word meant. The man frowned under his mask at the lack of clarity, so, he decided to change the subject.

"Where were you made?" he questioned, getting more specific. "I doubt the forest is where you really are from."

Bastion beeped his response, saying the words but not really understanding the meaning behind them. At least the human could transcribe the sounds.

"SST Laboratories? Any idea why they made you? Must've had a reason for making a robot with an arsenal like yours."

The Unit looks down at its own arm-gun, examining the limb with its blue eye. Again, it could only let out an unsure response.

"Really is just a blur to you, isn't it? I wonder why?"

Nathan was apprehensive as to why a robot that seemed rather sentient remembers nothing about the life it lived before the forest. Obviously, Bastion must have been designed with combat in mind, but how it ended up in the forest was unclear. It was like the robots that mindlessly roamed the wastes for hundreds of years after the bombs fell, not really serving a purpose.

It reminded him of ED-E.

"(inquisitive beeping)"

The noise makes Nathan cast his gaze back up to the machine, still looking at him with its blue eye. He responds shortly after.

"Me? California, I guess."

"Ooo wee?"

"Why was I made? Afraid that answer isn't as clear-cut for people as it is for machines, Bastion."

"Zwee?"

"I wish I could tell ya'."

Slight pain and a grumbling sensation caused the human to place a hand on his stomach. Bastion stops in its tracks and went over to the man, beeping concern for what was happening. He waved off any help it tried to offer.

"I'm fine," he reassured the machine. "I'm just hungry, that's all."

Bastion lets out a curious noise as it dips its rectangular head to the side.

"It means I have to eat something, or else I'll starve to death. Never seen your bird-friend eat something?"

The combat unit looks at the yellow-hued bird, perched in its nest and fixing up the feathers on its side. It beeped and nodded in confirmation.

"And that's why your friend does it," Nathan clarified, then noticing how asinine this entire conversation seemed. Trying to explain the intricacies of hunger to something that doesn't have a mouth or a stomach.

Even so, he pushed on and followed Bastion further through the forest, covering some more ground to get closer to whatever human settlement the robot was going on about. The human was still a bit wary of the machine leading him, but if its child-like mannerism and interactions with the bird were any indication, he didn't have to worry too much about being stabbed in the back. Not a lot of machines double-crossed him. Well, most of them.

More grumbling annoyed Nathan, but he became distracted from it when he looked ahead and saw that the robot had led him to a river with rocks at its shore. The Tribal looks down at the spears he held in his hand and goes up to the river bank. Crouching down, he looks at the water, clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. He takes his helmet and right glove off, bowing down further as his exposed hand dips into the somewhat frigid river. Cupping water in his palm, he brings it up to his face, sniffs its, before finally taking a sip and swishing it around his mouth. It doesn't taste too bad, and it certainly wasn't the worst bit of water he's drunk. Gulping it down, he lays on his stomach and starts lapping up more water, rapidly bringing his cupped hand to his mouth in succession. After hydrating himself, he reaches back and pulls out his trusty Vault 13 Canteen, pouring out the little remnants of liquid it had inside before dipping it into the river and filling it. Screwing the cap back on and putting the canteen away, he looks over to his left and sees Bastion holding the bird in his hand lapping up some water the machine scooped up from the river. Nathan couldn't help but be a bit amused by the sight.

Splashing snapped the Tribal's head in the other direction, seeing ripples on the surface of the river as if something had been thrown in. Standing up, he sees there's something in the water, somewhat shiny with a long body. It's a fish. A big one.

Nathan slowly crouches down and grabs one of the spears, holding it with his one hand as he tries to gauge the distance with the other. It was a smaller target than the deer, and the shimmering of the water distorted its silhouette. He'd imagine it would be fast under water, so chasing it wouldn't be as straightforward. Raising the spear slightly, his torso pivoted as the spear was flung from his hand. It splashed water around, sending ripples and droplets throughout. He could hear Bastion walking up from behind, making curious noises as it watched what was happening. Waiting for the water to settle down, Nathan spotted his spear and saw there was no fish impaled on the end. Turning and seeing Bastion regard him inquisitively, he sighs.

"How 'bout we stay here and rest up for a bit?" he suggested, albeit he was sure the robot didn't really need to recuperate as much as he did. "I need to score myself some lunch."

* * *

Only in his boxers, Nathan crouched on top a rock and quietly watched the river as he cradled a spear. Bastion was nearby, sitting rather human-like with its legs splayed out in front as it supported itself with its arms planted behind. Its eye wandering from place to place, looking at anything that caught its attention whether it was Nathan trying to spear fish, its bird-friend collecting twigs, or a falling leaf that looked interesting.

The human spent about half-an-hour trying to catch something and he wasn't successful so far. Fishing apparently isn't something he's caught on too well, and he doesn't really have any memories of his tribe teaching him how to hunt anything with scales that wasn't a gecko. It was a bit embarrassing, though, how these small, slimy things are easily eluding him. He was shivering, as he had to go into the river multiple times to retrieve his spears. It wasn't really comfortable for the New Californian. He never liked the cold.

"Slippery bastards," the Courier muttered under his breath as his eyes darted all over the river surface, trying to spot anything large and moving.

The sound of actuators and hydraulics whirring caused him to look behind and see Bastion getting up and start walking somewhere else, the opposite of where they were heading.

"Hey!" Nathan exclaimed, the robot turning around. "Where are you going?"

"Kee koo peeooo!" the robot let out, making the human lift a brow.

"Looking for what?"

"Beep boop boo boop."

"Alright… Just don't stray too far…"

He watched it go, soon disappearing behind some trees with the faint whirring of its chassis fading and being replaced by the sound of the forest. Nathan almost cursed himself for letting the machine go on without him, yet, something inside told him to have some faith. Bastion, even with a gun for an arm and a minigun on its back, didn't have a reason to lie to the human or backstab him in any way. Besides, it was Bastion leading the party.

The Courier shook another thought out of his head as he tried to concentrate. Looking back at the river, nothing really changed and he couldn't see any signs of prey. It was like that for what seemed like ages. Nothing but the rushing of the river and his shivering breath to accompany him. He was very well about to call it quits and try to track where Bastion went. Until he heard  _croaking_.

The Tribal changed his stance, positioning himself to get up as his head swiveled and tried to get a bead on where the sound was coming from. He looked across the river and saw nothing. He looked to his sides and saw nothing. Scratching his head, there was another croak and it sounded close. It sounded like it came from in front of him. Slowly, he rose and got close to the edge of the river and looked over, seeing some rocks protruding from the water surface. On one of the rocks was the source of the noise. A small, dark-green colored creature with four legs, the back legs significantly longer than its forelegs. It was a frog, possibly the first frog the Wastelander has seen. He did remember reading about how some people ate the little critters and were considered delicacies. The amphibian seemed awfully small, so he couldn't really see how anyone could make a proper meal out of it. Might make a decent snack, though, and Nathan's not finicky when it comes to food. Wasn't really by choice with the life he led.

He crawls on his stomach, inching himself closer to the little thing with a spear at his side. Was a little overkill to use a meter-long stick on something that wasn't even bigger than his hand, but what can he do? The frog seems oblivious to the man eyeing it as it continues croaking, its chin reverberating rapidly. It wasn't long until Nathan was practically hovering over the critter, his spear ready to thrust. That was when the when the frog decided to jump, with no warning beforehand.

Nathan rushed and thrust the spear but narrowly missed the amphibian. He then tried to scramble after the frog reaching for it mid-air. He wrapped his finger around its slimy body, but he lurched forward too much and fell into the cold water. As quickly as he fell, he rocketed up, coughing and gasping as he rubbed excess water from his eyes and tried to shake it off. After recuperating from the sudden change in temperature, he opened his eyes to see his hands empty, with only the slime of the frog on it.

"Fuckin' fantastic," he cursed, shivering more as he went back to dry land, his clothes soaking and dripping. At least he had to sense to wear only his boxers.

He bends down to wash the slime away from his hand with the river water. After doing so, he takes off his boxers and twists them to squeeze the water out from it and onto the river, grumbling all the while. Apparently, the cold dampened his sense so much that he wasn't expecting a circular red bulb to suddenly cross his vision from the right. Nathan looked up and saw it was Bastion, holding a red apple in its metallic hand and offering it to him. The nude man took the apple and examined it, looking as if it was freshly picked.

"Heh, thanks," he said, astonished the machine could find something.

"Wee!"

Nathan bit into the apple, ripping a sizable chunk out of the fruit and chewing on the sweet and juicy meat. It was delicious, taking his mind out of what just transpired moments earlier over the frog. He nodded in appreciation towards the robot as he kept chewing on the fruit. However, the delight that coated his face slowly morphed into confusion as he chewed on something that didn't feel like fruit. Grinding his molars on it, it had a plastic texture and tasted bland. Reaching into his mouth, a small piece of paper was pulled from within. It was ripped and torn, covered in his saliva, but it had a word on it printed in black that was barely legible: " _Organisch_ ".

"Bastion," Nathan began, apprehensively as he looked up at the robot. "Where did you find this?"

Before following Bastion to the origins of that apple, the Courier adorned his gear and black armor. He followed Bastion for a couple of minutes until it led them to an open patch of forest that someone had made camp. There were two tents, one larger and with more space than the other, around a campfire that was still smoking. Supplies and food also surrounded the fire, especially a cooler that was opened and looked like it was rummaged through recently. Nathan looked down at the apple, seeing that it did not sprout from this forest but somewhere else. He watched as Bastion reached into the cooler and pulled out another red apple, beeping jovially all the while. At least he knew they weren't alone in the forest, but doubted that they would appreciate having their camp raided by a gun-bot and a man in black armor.

"Bastion, put that down," he asked of the robot, looking around for the owners of the camp. "We should get out of here and get back on the trail…"

" _BARK_!"

His helmeted head snapped forward and saw a fluffy, dog with a grey-black coat growling and snarling at them. Unhappy at the intruders. Voices slowly approached from behind the dog.

" _Wilhelma?_ " yelled a voice belonging to a man. " _Wilhelma, warum bellst du-"_

A man, a woman, and a boy, all dressed in hiking gear came into view, just behind the dog. Their eyes widened in collective shock from the site they came across, with the man instantly splaying his arms out to act as a barrier for the woman and boy. The woman held her hand over her mouth, while the little boy blankly stared as he held a jar filled with water and tadpoles. For once, attention wasn't entirely on the tall, armored Courier, but the hulking metal behemoth next to him.

" _F-Ferdinand,_ " the woman meekly whimpered, shaking. " _I-ist das eine-"_

" _Shh, shh!"_ the man hushed her, also trembling and his eyes as wide as disks.

His eyes then darted to the right of him, Nathan's eyes following and seeing that he was eyeing a hatchet laying against some logs. The man dove to the tool, but Nathan intervened before anything else could happen.

"Woah! Woah!" the tall man yelled, holding out his hand in front of him as he stepped between the family and Bastion. "There's no need to do that! Calm down!"

Their eyes are now on him, staring at the man instead of the machine. The man had the hatchet in his hand, ready to strike when the need arose. But he kept it still and in sight.

"Do… Any of you speak English?" the Californian asks, remembering what country he was in.

They continue staring at each other, but the man and woman exchange glances. The man looks back from his wife and addresses Nathan, hesitantly and with a tremble in his tone.

"I-I s-speak English," the husband states in a light accent, uncertainty clear in his eyes.

"Good… Good," the Californian remarks, slowly nodding his head. "Look, I'm sorry we're intruding on your camp, but, we're not here to hurt anyone. We're just passing by."

He watches the German man's face go from horrified to bewilderment as he looks back and forth between Nathan and Bastion. A tinge of anger crosses his brow as he began to yell.

"But that is a  _Bastion!_ " he screams angrily, making his wife and child jump in surprise, and the dog more hyperactive. "Do you have any idea how many people those  _damn things_ killed?! Who are you?!"

Nathan's face scrunched up and looked back at the robot behind him. The gun on its arm and back, the imposing figure, and the armor plating made it obvious this machine was designed for combat and killing. But the man's reaction… Did that mean…?

'How many did they kill?' the Courier asked himself, afraid he found a darker reason for Bastion's construction.

Flapping wings and a yellow-green blur made him look down to the ground and saw that Bastion's bird was scouring the campground apparently oblivious to the confrontation. However, as it pecked around and tried to find more building supplies, the dog apparently took offense to this and saw the bird as another intruder and charged toward it. Nathan heard a gun charging from behind him and spun around to see Bastion jutting its gun forward with a blood-eye replacing the blue.

"Nooo!"

He rushed forward and pushed the arm up, the rounds that let loose flying into the air and booming throughout the once quiet forest floor. He hears screams and turns his head to see the family running, the man holding onto his wife's hand as he carried their child, with the dog running after them. Nathan was then knocked down to the ground and looked up to see Bastion continuing to fire its gun. The man got up and ran in front of the machine, held his arms out to act as a barrier and forcing it to look at him to get it snap out of it.

"Bastion! Bastion!" he yelled, the robot then rotating its head to look directly into his visors.

Nothing happens until Nathan heard fluttering and sees the bird land on Bastion shoulder and proceed to rearrange the twigs of its nest. The robot's head turns and looks at the bird, its eye then flicking blue and red until it finally blinks blue and stays that way. The man sees the machine's body become tense, somehow, and steps back to watch as Bastion looks around the campground and the mess they made. Its visor eventually lands on Nathan and visibly sulks.

"Bweeeeeeeeeeeoh…"

The human could only but scowl at the automaton, exhaling deeply as he took off his helmet. He looked around and saw the family nowhere to be seen, leaving their belongings. Nathan still has the social touch, he sees. He goes over to the cooler, pick up and empties a plastic bag they had and begins packing some of the food but takes nothing else.

Getting up, he goes over to Bastion and lays a hand on its plate, prompting the blue visor to meet his gaze.

"Let's go," he simply said. "We wasted enough time."

* * *

After silently trekking through the forest for a couple of hours and long enough for the Sun to almost set, they finally reached the "human settlement" the machine had beeped about. The two found themselves on the outskirts, seeing houses and buildings clearly of human origin. There was also some more "primitive" architecture and what appeared to be a castle in the distance. However, as soon as the town came into view, Nathan almost instantly noticed something off. Everything was quiet, the sound of villagers going about their daily lives completely absent. Only the howling of the wind and other sounds of the forest reaching his ears. If it wasn't for some the more modern-style building alongside the medieval construction, he would've dismissed it as being abandoned for hundreds of years. It looked abandoned for around thirty years at most.

The Wanderer walked forward, scanning the surroundings for any sign of life. However, he stopped when he noticed he was walking alone. Turning around, he saw Bastion staying where it was, not daring to venture beyond the boundaries. It looked around, apparently hesitant to follow. Civilization was probably something the bot rarely ventured to. In fact, Nathan wouldn't be surprised if he avoided it all together.

"Bastion, is something wrong?" the man called out.

"W-w-wooooo...?" the machine responded, still unmoving.

"I think we're all alone. Just a ghost town here. There might be something worth looking for, though. Come on, you owe me."

Bastion let out another long, uncertain noise, fidgeting in place as it looked back and forth between the town and the forest. Looking back at the town and seeing Nathan there, waiting expectantly, it relented and followed the man further into the ruins of the German village. It soon gained a name when the two passed a wooden greeting sign with words carved into it.

"Will… co-men off…  _I-shen-Wall-day_ …?" Nathan tried to pronounce, butchering the German words. The meaning of the greeting was the same, nonetheless. Bastion let out a series of electronic noses looking at the sign as if trying to pronounce the words as well. Nathan kept walking and followed a series of stairs that seemed to lead to an upper district of the town, rising above the surrounding pines. Climbing the steps and following them to a street, Nathan was very surprised to see a crater formed by the remnants of what seemed to be a tank. Except it wasn't a tank.

"What in the fuck is  _that_?" Nathan asked aloud, walking up to the rusted red and black shell of a large, quadrupedal robot with legs like that of a spider. It had a huge cannon atop it hull and a dimmed red visor that seemed to act as its eyes. It sustained heavy damaged but looked like it was pummeled to death by a huge hammer. It was one of the larger robots the Courier's ever seen, even bigger than some sentry bots.

The echo of flapping wings turned him around to see Bastion, next to a building's sign that had a tankard on it, looking at a pile of metal on the ground that the bird was scouring over. He strode to the machine's side and saw that it was another Bastion Unit, long since turned into a pile of scrap. On the other side of the building's entrance was another dead Bastion Unit, making Nathan's curiosity pique as he looked at the door and opened it.

The old wood creaked and dust shook from the door frame as he pushed them inward. The Courier drew his sidearm before turning his Pip-Boy's light on. A dim blue from Bastion's eye also shone off the dark walls. Slowly peering around the corner, the two found themselves in the dilapidated wooden remains of a brewery, some of the tables and flooring ruined by Bastion corpses and encroaching flora. There was a holographic light on one of the tables, next to a set of large brewing kettles. It beckoned Nathan over, who, upon closer inspection, saw it was a map of some sort with representations of mountains. There were blue symbols and red symbols, German words imposed on them. Much of it didn't make sense to the Californian, but some were easy to guess.

" _Artillerie._ "

" _Infanterie_."

" _Crusader_."

But one word had Nathan's utmost attention. A word that's been alluding him for the past couple of days. The holographic images of a Bastion head conveniently accompanied the word.

" _Omnic_."

He looked up and saw a familiar image on a poster in front of him. Walking over, it has the visage of a man in power armor, almost a carbon copy of Reinhardt's, with the words " _Die Crusaders Stehen Wache_ " beneath him. Next to the poster were flyers that seemed haphazardly plastered, as if they were put up in a hurry. If he had to guess what the word on them meant, "evacuate" would be his first choice.

"So, this is what the  _Omnic Crisis_  was?" he asks shaking his head, not really expecting an answer other than what surrounded him.

He looks over his shoulder to see Bastion, looking out the large windows towards the forest with the bird. The Courier should have seen this earlier, the reason for why a rusted, overgrown robot armed to the teeth wandering in the forest for God knows how long. In retrospect, this makes Nathan even luckier than he deserved to be. That the death robot found him first and didn't pump him full of lead. Everything made sense now… But it didn't.

Why didn't Bastion kill him, the first chance it got? Why did it snap out of attempting to kill that family rather than just continue with the objective? How were the humanoid Omnics, like Zenyatta, considered the same league as this tank of a machine? Why was this Bastion mostly passive in the first place? And most important: How large was the  _Omnic Crisis_?

Was it as large and world-destroying as the  _Great War_? He couldn't tell, mainly because civilization was still intact on this Earth...

The human looked towards the door and walked out, venturing back out into the long-abandoned cobble streets. He wanted to see more of the German village. Or, what was left of it.

Walking among the ruins, scars of war greeted Nathan wherever he looked. From the collapsed remains of a building that once served a beneficial purpose to the inhabitants, to the mangled corpses of Bastion Omnics and even larger automatons in various, lifeless positions. The quiet atmosphere, sights of ruin and decay, coupled with a dark sky made walking through the streets too reminiscent of exploring Pre-War ruins. He didn't like it. He kept expecting a mutated abomination or chemmed out raiders to jump him at the next corner. Or in this case, killer robots. It was probably morbid curiosity that was making him do this.

Eventually, the Mojave Wanderer came across a building in another section of the village, located on what seemed to be a town square. It had a yellow sign, hanging by its side, calling itself a "Jagdhütte" with the stylized art of antlers underneath the word. Inviting himself in, the first thing that catches Nathan's eyes were the trophies posted along the wooden walls. Antlers and horns of big game, most likely local. A fireplace with a gray-brick chimney rising to the roof had a staircase wrapping around it. He climbed the steps, following them to the second floor of a living area, furniture was strewn about. There were more trophies, but of smaller game. One of the critters looked like it could be a cousin to Bastion's friend. Stepping into the center and looking around, the shimmer of the moon's light bounced onto Nathan's eyes, making him face something with a reflective surface. It was a cabinet, but instead of storing books or alcoholic beverages, it had an old rifle. The Courier was instantly interested.

He walked up to the gun cabinet and tried to open it, but his attempt was blocked by a metal lock keeping the doors shut. Nathan growled at this as he lacked the proper tools to pick. And even if he did, the lock didn't even have a keyhole and was more evidence of how different technology was in this world. Planting his fingers on the glass, it didn't feel particularly strong and felt like it could break with enough force. Then, unholstering his sidearm and taking the mag out along with the round in the chamber, he held it by the muzzle with the grip pointing away from him. He looked around, seeing he was still alone before he swung the pistol and shattered the glass, sending the fragments flying. Clearing more crystal debris out of the way, he reaches in and grabs the rifle by the fore end. He pulls it out into the open and shakes off some dust, the moonlight shining off its wooden body.

It was a bolt action, had a large scope bolted to its left side and hung over the receiver but leaving enough space for rounds to be loaded in one-by-one. It was more than a meter in length and had metal rings wrapped around its fore end where there was still wood. The barrel jutted out and separated from the wood, with a thin rod under it. It had some dings and scratches on the wood and metal, but nothing too serious. The only noteworthy embellishment was a spot on the side of the receiver where its serial number was, where some of the markings on the metal were filed down. Figures, since the rifle was stamped with the manufacturing year "1942".

"At least I know this world had  _that_  shitshow…" the Courier remarked as he pulled back the bolt to check it if was loaded. "Guess we aren't too different, after all."

He frowned when he saw it was empty, but recanted when he thought about how leaving a rifle loaded indoors would be irresponsible. Looking down back at the cabinet, he started to rummage through the first drawer and found nothing. He searched through the second and found nothing. Finally, on the third, his hands came upon a box that jingled when it moved and a wooden case with a simple brass latch. The box wasn't labeled and had a plain cardboard coloring, and opened to reveal around twenty rounds with no serious signs of degradation. The wooden box opened to display a collection of cleaning equipment all snug in pockets of green velvet. Honestly, holding old memorabilia and finding the ammo and kit for it almost made the Courier smile.

Until hunger struck him in the stomach with a tightening sensation.

"That's getting fucking annoying," he winced, gathering the rifle, ammo, and cleaning kit to bring it downstairs.

It started to rain when he situated himself downstairs and plopped his loot on the table. Filling the fireplace with some of the remaining logs, he soon got a fire roaring back to life and showering the room with its golden hue and crackling. Felt warmer and better than the campfire he made a night prior and provided an adequate place to cook the canned goods he knicked earlier. As he "drank" beans from the can due to the lack of a spoon, the thought of how to contact Overwatch crossed his mind. There was still much of the village he had yet to explore, so there had to be something he could use. Since this town was a point of contention for the Omnic Crisis, there could be some military communications equipment he could try his luck with. If he could figure out how to use it, that is. He heaved a sigh, too fatigued to formulate a plan on how to get back. In the case that if he does get back, he might need to ask Angela on some pointers for German. He stopped himself from getting his hopes up.

As he listened to the rain pattering against the roof and the outside streets, he heard the approaching hydraulic steps of an automaton walk into the building. Nathan turns around to see Bastion walking in, glossy and dripping with rainwater. The bird is with it, inside its nest, its feathers soaked and trying to shake excess water off and fix its coat.

Bastion gets close to the fireplace, moving the empty chair out of the way. Then, without another beep, its mechanically shapes itself into a more cube-like form. Its arms and legs hugging close to the core of its body. The head recedes further into the torso until the blue light shuts off, the machine soon whirring to silence. It wasn't long until the bird followed suit, planting itself into its nest and closing its beady eyes.

"I guess robots in this world need sleep," he observed, yawning after he did so and closing his eyes as he reclined into the chair. "I guess I do, too…"

* * *

Goodsprings, Mojave Wasteland, Nevada

2285

The Scribe, the Sniper, the Ranger, and the two hounds found themselves on the outskirts of the little town that lent its name to the water source that provided sustenance for the inhabitants. The town is known for being where their "mutual friend" was saved by the good folks who inhabit it and holding off an attack of convicts with the help of that friend. A place that has more things happen around it than it has any right to. Seeing it, they instantly knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Multiple pillars of smoke could be seen from the distance, and there was a lot of bustling activity for this usually quaint little town. As the party cautiously moved over the broken road where the town saloon and store were established alongside, they watched as NCR Troopers and townspeople hauled bodies covered in cloth over stretchers. The faces they wore were grim, many of the troopers forced to put on blank, hardened expressions while some of the townsfolk had tears running down their cheeks. Some of the corpses, which they were carrying to a row of bodies set up opposite of the general store, were dressed in NCR uniforms. Others were not. They couldn't see in great detail of what wounds the bodies bared, but if the blood staining the cloth was any indication, they were torn to shreds.

"What the hell happened here?!" Veronica exclaimed, clearly hurt to see this quiet town she's spent many a night in suffering this much.

They looked around, trying to see if there was anyone they could recognize from the limping crowds. Veronica's eyes eventually landed on the patio of the store, seeing wounded soldiers and civilians being tended to by a balding man in a field hand outfit. She ran over, recognizing the old doctor.

"Doc Mitchell!" she yelled, causing the old man to stop and turn around, eyes widening as he saw who was running to him. He barely had time to react before Veronica grabbed him in a hug, the doctor hesitant to hug back due to the blood on his hands.

"Ms. Santangelo?" the old man let out, surprised to see the younger woman back in town. "What're you doing here? It ain't safe here no more…"

"I can clearly see that," she responded, letting go of the Doc and looking at the wounded he was tending to. Most of them were soldiers wrapped in stained gauze and bandages, some were covered head to toe. One man was lying on a cot on the floor missing one of his legs. She looked back at Doc Mitchell's face, what was usually a calm and passive visage was now tired and stuck with grief.

"What happened here?"

"I wish I could tell ya'," the Doctor grimly said, his voice a bit weaker from lack of sleep. "Things were peaceful and the same about a week ago, but a few nights ago, we noticed strange things happenin'."

"Like what?"

"Well, first, some of our crops became uprooted and it wasn't long until we lost a few heads of our Bighorners. Then, these strange burrows kept popping up all over the town. We thought they were molerats and tried to plug them up best we could. Then, all hell broke loose."

"Why? What happened?"

A voice spoke up from behind, one belonging to a woman. "Monsters. Monsters came out from the ground."

Veronica spun around and saw a shorter, orange-haired girl in leather armor and with a varmint rifle slung over her shoulder. She had one of her hands nuzzling her neck for some reason as the other lightly pat the head of a dog next to her. Her eyes and cheeks were red as if they were bawling moments earlier

"Sunny?" Veronica let out, surprised to see the gecko hunter in such a state. "What monsters?"

"I have no idea what the hell they were," she let out, rather coldly but not in disrespect to present company. "They were scaly like geckos, had big claws, and crawled on all fours. And their eyes… Their eyes glowed so brightly in the dark…"

Sunny Smiles gritted her teeth and sucked up air, standing up straight to gain some semblance on her emotions. She began to explain further what happened.

"We were being harassed by the buggers but could never get ahold of any of them. They always kept digging away before anyone could see them. Then, someone said they found a huge mound where the schoolhouse is, big enough for even a man to fit in. We kept losing bighorners and crops, so we had to do something before people started getting hurt. We thought it would be a good idea to go into their home and blow them all to Kingdom Come with dynamite, or block them off. But…"

Her stiff visage broke, as she brought a hand to her eye to wipe away incoming tears.

"It was awful. Only a few of us made it out… E-easy Pete, the old fart who had the dynamite we were going to use, he didn't make it…"

Sunny Smiles was about to burst into tears again, prompting Veronica to get closer and hug the girl, bringing a hand to caress her red hair. Boone and Parmley stood to the side, looking all around. Boone looked to the south and saw a big rising pillar of smoke where the schoolhouse was.

"What about the troopers?" the Sniper asked, looking at all the wounded. "Where did they come from?"

"They arrived not long after Sunny's expedition went awry," Doc Mitchell clarified. "They finished off what Sunny's crew started, but without taking some hits of their own."

Boone and Parmley exchanged uncertain glances, thinking back to what Elder McNamara hold told them days earlier. Soldiers, both NCR and Brotherhood, were deployed on high-alert to some threat. A threat that, as Lieutenant Hayes had told them, supposedly had something to do with the Divide. This made things more uncertain, as they were sure  _nothing_  could live in the Divide.

Boone walked over to Veronica, still hugging Sunny, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Did Nathan ever say he went into the Divide?" he asked, in a hushed tone.

The Scribe's brows furrowed, before shaking her head slightly. "No, he never said anything about that place. Never mentioned going there. Why?"

"Just a thought…"

Veronica's face contorted in confusion, wondering what did Nathan have to do with the Divide. For as batshit crazy as that man could be, she honestly doubted he would venture into the hell-hole that was once the Long-15. Who would've imagined that a community once prospered there…

Their thoughts were interrupted by an approaching NCR Trooper, a Service Rifle slung over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for bothering you guys," she said, her face veiled by a bandana and goggles. "But I'm afraid you're going to have move on. This place isn't safe anymore."

"Hold on a second!" Parmley said, walking up to the soldier. "Just what in the hell happened here?!"

"I'm afraid I can't say, Ranger. I just think it's better if you guys got a move on."

"Seriously? We're on the same side and you can't tell us anything?! What about the guy over there? The one with the weird hair? Why is he being held up like that?"

They looked back to see a man on the other side of the road, his hands restrained behind his back and kneeling on the ground, with two Troopers standing guard over him. He had twisted hairs upon his head, a breathing mask covering most of his face, and a long dark duster with no sleeves. His head was bowed down, so they couldn't get a good look at the uncovered parts of his face.

"I'm afraid I can't say much, sir," the trooper remarked. "We just… Found him one day. He has some interesting things to say. About the Divide. Other than that, most of what he spouts is nonsense. But like I said, you need to keep moving. It's not safe here anymore."

As much as the group wanted to stay and help the good folk of Goodsprings, they were unfortunately too late to make much of a difference. Besides, Nathan might know what to do with this situation, so getting him back wasn't just for themselves. They moved on, heading north to a cave that isn't too far from the town. However, as they went back on the old road, Veronica noticed something when she looked back at the town. The man kneeling on the floor had his head up and was watching them leave. She was a bit creeped out but thought nothing of it as she moved on.


	18. Die Omnic

Eichenwalde, Germany

2076

The German Sun shined through the doorway and windows to the long-abandoned hunter's lodge, birds preening off the morning dew from their feathers. Nathan was still asleep in the chair right in front of the fireplace, long since burned out of its flame with only a charred, blackened husk of soot and wood in its place. The Mauser rifle, its box of ammo, and its cleaning kit were still in front of him, along with the rest of his inventory.

Slowly, Nathan started to stir awake, groaning groggily as he sat up on the chair and adjusted the duster over him that acted like a makeshift blanket. Bringing up his right hand to his eyes and trying to wipe the sleep out of them, he exhales deeply as he lurches forward and almost falls flat on his face to the ground. He just stays there, eyes still closed and with little motivation to bother changing that. He never liked mornings and would rather have another hour or two of shut-eye.

Finally, he opens his eyes and still has somewhat blurry vision as he reaches forward and grabs the rifle by its stock. He looks down and examines the old bolt-action for any water-damage it could've sustained last night, but nods ins satisfaction when he sees that it is spotless. Well, as spotless as a nearly century-and-a-half old military rifle could be. Nathan is honestly surprised with how well-preserved it has been, especially considering the rifle's been lying abandoned in a town for who knows how long. Isn't the first relic the Courier laid his hands on.

His smile fades as he looks to the right of him and sees the space next to him empty, with no sign of the Omnic except for only a few scratches into the wood and indentations into the rug. The bird's not there either. Standing up, Nathan looks around to see if the robot was nearby but sees nothing. He was more annoyed than worried at the thought of trying to search through more of the ruins to find the Omnic. Sort of reminded him of the times he would have to chase off after Rex when he went chasing off after rodents. Though, he didn't know what Bastion caught a whiff of.

He gathered his gear and supplies, sported his armor, and slung his "brand-new" Karabiner over his back before going off further into the town to discover more of its landmarks. One street and one checkpoint later, it's almost as if the Courier traveled through time and space again as the town's more ancient architecture of stone castles and cobble road now surrounded him. A large stone tower in front of him, a set of stairs connected to it not too far from where he was. He scales the steps but stops midway as he looks to his right to the horizon and sees the large skyscrapers of a city far away from the quaint village. He whistles loudly as he leans onto a brick when he gets closer to the edge.

"Well, would you look at that?" he utters, imagining the skyscrapers to be taller than any building he's seen, functional or otherwise.

So far, he's only seen three cities in this world, but all of them easily beat out anything back in California and Vegas in terms of size and scale. Post-War, of course, as things could have been different in Pre-War terms. That's one of the reasons his world went to hell in the first place. Still, civilization seemed far away and Nathan couldn't spend the rest of the day sightseeing.

Climbing the rest of the flight of stairs, he climbs over piles of rubble to find a doorway on the other side, that led into the large castle at the center of it all. He was about to walk in but ducked as a bird almost flew into him and outside, apparently using a space inside the castle to roost until Nathan intruded. Grumbling as he shook his head, he continued inside, flipping his Pip-Boy's light on as it was a little dim save for a few windows.

Strolling through the castle, through another old ruin, it felt a little surreal walking through the dilapidated stone hallways of yore with the occasional rusted hulls of advanced soldier-bots. A battle occurred here long ago, and as the Courier walked further into the old bastion, he finally found the Bastion he was searching for. In the middle of a throne room where plenty of sunlight shone through the roof.

"Bastion!" the tall man called, getting the bots attention as he walked over with a sense of relief. "There you are."

"Beedoo beedoo!" Bastion acknowledged, motioning its stiff greeting with its hand.

"What are you doing here?"

The robot regarded Nathan with a glance before pointing to what was in front of them. It was another large mass of metal but in the form of a man. It had an ornate design of angled and curved armor, gold furnishings and fanciful decoration that made the shape akin to a bird of prey, even having a blue loincloth with the image of a creature that is the cross between an eagle and a lion. It was somewhat overgrown with flora, seated upon a wooden throne flanked on either side with the same creature on the loincloth as armrests and with his left hand resting upon one of them. Next to the shell of Power Armor was a huge mace, bigger than any Super Sledge.

'Christ, is there still a person in there?' Nathan asked himself, not wanting to find out if it smells worse than T-51b does after use. 'What did Wilhelm call it? 'Crusader Armor'? Wonder if he knew this guy?'

The sound of wings flapping above them caused the two to look up and follow another bird as it flew over and behind them. As it flew out of their vision, it incidentally led the man's eyes to a huge blue banner with the same eagle-lion hybrid on the man's armor. Yet, below that, there was a set of monitors and computers. Must've been the communications equipment.

Nathan bounded over and was at the command desk in mere seconds. However, his hopes were dashed as he realized they were without power and were unresponsive to anything he tried to do. Computers in this world, for as flashy and advanced as they seem, weren't nearly as reliable as Terminals when it came to the power supply. Who would've thought a fusion battery would last longer?

Now, the chances of contacting Overwatch and eventually getting back home to the Mojave seemed to be far from his grasp. As far away as that city seemed. As his mind raced with headaches of trying to find alternative and riskier solutions of contacting the team, he felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Bastion looking down at him and cocked its head to the side before holding its metallic hand to the man. It was a holding a cord connected to the station. It then pointed to itself while still holding the cord.

"Boo boo doo de doo," it suggested, not stammering in its proposal.

"Are you sure about that?" Nathan questioned, genuinely surprised at the sudden generosity the robot was going through to help him. "Do you even have enough power in you to do it?"

"Bee doo boo dooweet," Bastion answered, apparently confident in its response.

The human was afraid plugging his metal acquaintance in might lead to unforeseen consequences. However, since the lights may have been out for this place for decades and there is no other living soul here other than a couple of birds, he doubts they'd find another power source anytime soon. Hell, he didn't even know if the equipment was working. But he only had one shot at this. Still, it didn't feel entirely right using the Omnic like a battery. Especially with how selfless it tried to be, not really expecting anything in return.

"Alright," he accepted, hesitantly as he grabbed the cord. "Let's see if this'll work."

Bastion gave a few beeps of reassurance before it moved to the side and planted itself into the ground, the same configuration it transformed into when it went to sleep mode the other night. With its "claw", it pointed to an area on its back indicating that is where Nathan should plug the cord in. He obliges, and after finding a port that seemed like the right fit he goes in plugs it. The cord plugs in with an audible " _kerchink_ " that echoes throughout the castle and Nathan steps back to see Bastion's head pocketed into its body and glowing a dimmer blue.

"Bastion?" he asked, anxious if anything had happened to the machine. "You alright?"

Flickering lights then distracted him and he saw that the once dead computer monitors and screens were now flashing to life. Well, not all of them. A few flickered awkwardly in random patterns and others were still a black canvas. The one in front of him, a curved monitor with a white outline and a keyboard in a similar pattern, seemed just fine.

Nathan grabbed the knocked over wooden chair in front of him and brought it up, dusting it off before he sat on it and scooted closer to the desk. He messed around with the keyboard, but due to his unfamiliarity, he fumbled with the computer and didn't really have an idea of what to do or what he was even doing. It frustrated him more than it should've, especially as he spent 10 minutes trying to figure the damn things out. It made him feel older, for some reason, his hands clumsily going over the touch-screen keyboard. After more minutes passed, he leaned back in the chair rubbed his hands through his black hair, puffing out air in frustration. He looked back to Bastion, still a box, and felt worse for wasting its energy reserves. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his pack of smokes to let off some steam, but paused when he heard something clatter against the floor. He looked down, picking it up, and saw that it was the flash drive that Winston had given to him to extract data from computers. Which extracted data, if he remembered correctly, by establishing a connection with Athena back at base. And he had this stick in his back pocket the  _entire damn time!_

"I am getting  _fucking old!_ " the 40-year-old denounced himself, pinching his nose bridge before going back to the computer. "This better fuckin' work…"

Searching the computer, he finds a port and plugs the device in with. He sits back in the chair and waits, hoping that it will do anything. The screen is still, for around a minute, until a window pops up and bears the familiar image of Athena. It is a bit garbled and fuzzy, but it's her none the less.

"Hello?" she calls out through the computer's speakers. "Hello? Who is this? Mr. Brin, is that you?"

"Athena? Yeah, it's me!" Nathan calls out, a wave of relief washing over him. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you! I'm glad to see you're still with us, Mr. Brin!"

"Trust me, I agree! Where's everyone else?"

"All agents are well and accounted for. If you'll excuse me, they all thought you had died!"

For the first time in days, the Courier let out a hearty laugh, echoing throughout the stone walls of the castle.

"Can't blame 'em, honestly," he says, as a coy smile formed upon his lips. "Wouldn't be the first time someone's thought that."

"Nonetheless, it is great to see you alive and well," Athena said, full-heartedly. "I am notifying Winston of your status and triangulating your position, right now. So, in the meantime, please keep this connection live as much as you can. Help should be there soon, Mr. Brin."

"I'll be waiting."

Nathan slumped back into the chair, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he picked up his pack of cigs from the wooden table and retrieved one. His lips wrapping around it, he brought his shiny lighter's flame to the end and flicked it off after the tip was properly set aflame. Holding it between his index and middle finger, he shut his eyes as he gave it a good, long pull with his lungs and felt the warmth fill his insides. Then, just as smoothly as he did breathing it in, he pulled the cigarette away from his mouth and puffed out a big cloud of smoke into the air. Watching it rise into the blue banner. His eyes twitch to the left and see Bastion, silent and unmoving with the cord still plugged into it. Though, the bird was back and was stuffing, even more, building materials into its nest, tenderly placing the twigs. He looks at the computer desk and sees Athena's symbol, also silent and unmoving.

'As, soon as Athena's done doing whatever she's doing,' he planned to himself. 'I'll have to disconnect Bastion as soon as possible. Don't want to leave him like that.'

The bearded man's brows furrowed when he thought about that, that he just called Bastion a "him" in his mind. Would it be a him? Would it even care? Nathan concluded shortly after it wasn't important, as of now.

Almost half-an-hour had passed before any update from Athena on the monitor, and Nathan was almost about to start another smoke as ground his boot on the spent one until the computer's screen suddenly changed. It was a video feed, in the middle was Lena with her goggles hanging around her neck, and behind her were Zenyatta and Reinhardt without his armor. They were in a dropship's cockpit.

"Nathan, are you there?" she asked with a worried expression. "I can't see you."

"I can see you," he responded, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, thank God…" the Brit exhaled, a hand on her chest as relief washed over her. Nathan could also see weight being lifted off Reinhardt in the background and possibly Zenyatta, as well. "Are you alright? I thought you were a goner, for sure!"

"Could be better but it isn't the worst I've been through."

"Falling hundreds of meters through the air to the ground and still being alive isn't something to scoff at, mate! Sorry, we couldn't come back and try to find you! It's just that we sustained-"

"It's-it's fine! Don't worry about it. Where are you guys, anyway?"

"We just came back from Gibraltar to get the dropship repaired. We knicked one of our spares to come get you as soon as we heard the news."

Reinhardt then stepped in closer to the monitor, speaking up as he did.

" _Ja_! And I was surprised to see where Athena had found you!" the old German stated. "If you did not know; you are in the town of  _Eichenwalde, mein Fruende!_ It was the home of my master, Balderich."

"Really?" Nathan asked, looking behind and seeing the Crusader still in its throne. "He wouldn't happen to be in a very flashy suit of Power Armor, wouldn't he?"

"Wha- You have found him?!"

"Yes. Along with some other interesting pieces of  _history_."

He glanced at Bastion, for a split second.

"I see… At least we could retrieve his body in the meantime. It has been long over-due."

"Sit tight, Brin," Lena said a newfound smile on her. "We'll be there faster than you can knab the Queen's knickers!"

"I'll sit ti-," he was about to finish until his face contorted at the last part. "Wait, what?"

The video feed flashed off with a giggle and Nathan was left alone in the German castle, save for the robot and the bird. Assured that help was on the way, the man went over to Bastion, the bird watching him curiously, and unplugged the cord from its body. The comms stations died out instantly after, and Nathan looked at Bastion to see if would come back to life. He waited for a couple of moments, even tapping on Bastion's visor, but received no response from the Omnic. The blue lights on its body were still glowing, but rather dimly. He hoped nothing was wrong with the machine.

He looked back and laid his eyes once again on the corpse of Reinhardt's master. Noting that it was bulkier than most suits of Power Armor he was used to. And the hammer, well, was obvious.

'How are we going to get his ass in the ship?' he wondered in his head, as he crushed his spent cigarette beneath his boot and brought out another one. 'Hope Reinhardt's Crusader Armor is good enough to do the heavy lifting…"

He left the room and soon was outside of the castle back in the daylight. Greeted again by vegetation growing in and around the town. A welcome sight, especially after being in that dark castle for a while. He was walking over the bridge that connected the castle to the rest of the town. He saw there were spaces in between the bridge's ramparts, and decided to sit down on one of them, his leg dangling off the bridge. The Courier was looking towards parts of the forest and pulled out another cigarette from his pack. If he was going to spend the rest of the day waiting, he might as well relax in the little time he has. However, as he was about to light the cigarette, he heard the approaching fluttering of wings and Bastion's feathered friend landed on Nathan's Pip-Boy. Not expecting this, he lowered his arms and looked at the bird on his wrist, cigarette still in his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as if he expected the little bird to answer. He held his right hand to it, offering his index finger as a perch. The bird looked at it and hopped on without a second thought. It chirped a little high-pitched song and looked curiously at the man holding it. Cocking its head to the side. Nathan couldn't but help be bemused by the bird's antics, tilting his own head in response.

Without warning, the yellow-bird flew off, back to the castle and most likely back to its nest. For some reason, the sound of its wings flapping echoed in Nathan's ear. Far longer than it should. Puzzled, picks his ear to see if something was inside. The flapping didn't go away. He snapped his fingers repeatedly next to his ear, trying to drown out the noise. There was still flapping, but it grew louder as time went on. Heavier in tone. Guttural. And it sounded like it was coming from the forest.

Air rushed around him and dust kicked up as a large helicopter flew from over the forest and then over the town. Two other helicopters followed it, one of them slimmer than the others. Nathan rocketed to his feet as he watched them passing over. They were of dark colors, like camouflage, and had insignias that looked like a black cross and the German flag. He instantly knew what they were and what they were here for, so he wasted no time running back to the castle. Running back inside and maneuvering the halls before his eyes could adjust, he soon was back at the comms station and Bastion's side.

"Bastion! Bastion!" Nathan yelled, his words booming throughout the stone walls. "Wake up! Come on, they know you're here!"

The Omnic was still unresponsive, its blue eye still hollow and of a dim brightness. No matter what the man did, tapping on its visor, or shaking its body, nothing seemed to garner a reply and it was as if the robot had become catatonic. He slammed his fist down on its chassis out of frustration, but also in a desperate attempt to get the robot to wake up. He didn't know how long it would take for the team to get back, or how long until the German military would find Bastion, so he had to figure out something fast.

' _I need to do something!_ ' he thought, his mind practically racing.

He looked to the table, to his gear. Running over, the first thing he grabbed was the old Karabiner and pulled back the bolt before opening the box of ammo. Grabbing five of the 7.92x57mm Mauser cartridges, he loaded them in one-by-one with an audible click after the other. He then chambered the first round, the bolt feeling a bit stiff. Grabbing the rest of his gear, his helmet, and the flash drive, the Courier ran out of the castle and left the dormant Omnic behind. However, he wasn't going to abandon it. He was going to buy it time.

Leaving the castle, running back over the rubble to the left, and down a staircase that led him back down to the street, it wasn't long until he found himself back at the gated checkpoint, peering from a corner. One of the helicopters was hovering in mid-air, over the parking space in front of the hunter's lodge they slept in last night. Soldiers covered head to toe in gear were rappelling down, forming a perimeter with their rifles at the ready. The Courier had to shrink further into his cover to remain unseen but still have a visual on the men. About ten soldiers had descended, yet the helicopter kept hovering over them. The man spying on them was about to question why, until a set of Crusader Armor fell on the space in the middle with a boom, a fist to the ground before it stood back up unscathed.

'Jesus H. Christ!' Nathan silently exclaimed. 'All this over  _one_  Bastion?!'

He kept watching as the Crusader Armor, which was not in a knightly steel but a forest camouflage displaying a bird symbol on its chest piece began to bark orders in German. Nathan returned from the corner and looked at himself, seeing how woefully underequipped he was to take on a highly-armed military squad. A couple of spears, a pistol, an old rifle, and two grenades were all he had. Though, as he looked at the two grenades, the more he realized their worth as noisemakers. He didn't need to kill all of them, just distract them and lead them away from Bastion.

He got up and ran to down the street, making his way back to the bar where the dead tank Omnic was. Now inside, the first thing the Waster did was hop over the bar-counter and scoured the shelves for any alcoholic beverages that could at least knock someone on their ass. Finding a couple of bottles, varying in volume, he began to pour their contents all over the establishment, over anything that was constructed of wood. After taking one swig from a bottle and breaking it over a balcony above him, he ripped the little amount of grass growing out of the dead Omnics into a bundle of kindle before lighting it aflame with his lighter. He threw one bundle over a table and another into the balcony, before running outside to the corpse of the Omnic tank.

The man examined the killing machine's body, trying to find some exposed part of its hull. He eventually found an opening, conveniently located under the Omnic's cannon. Thinking this is where it ejected spent shells and was close to its ammo storage, he retrieved one of his grenades from his belt. Not even giving a second thought, he pulled the pin and dropped the explosive into the breach. Nathan ran to a store with a collapsed roof and dove behind the counter, trying to shield himself from the blast. Scant 3 seconds later, he heard the grenade detonate and set off the Omnic's payload, deafening the initial blast and sending fire and shrapnel in all directions. One of the glass panes on the counter shattered as a piece of metal crashed into it. Slowly, Nathan peered out of his cover and saw the robot corpse was now a mangled fireball in the crater. Then, soldiers began running into view, their weapons at the ready. It wasn't long until the Crusader came along, and they were all examining the wreckage and trying to spot out any activity. One of the soldiers pointed to their front, and they all saw flames spilling out from the bar, unbeknownst to them that the arsonist was behind them. Seeing they were occupied, Nathan quietly slid out of the store and back onto the streets, bursting into a sprint when he thought he was far enough away from them.

Making his way back to Bastion, he had just crossed the checkpoint for the third time when he heard the rotors of another helicopter going off in the distance. Taking an immediate left instead of a right, he saw the other transport chopper hovering over the space just before crossing the bridge. Nathan cursed as he tried to figure out what he needed to do sidetrack them. Behind him was a perch, with no other way of getting up there except climbing. So, the Courier did just that, scaling the stone bricks with a rifle slung over his back. It was somewhat easier than scaling a tree and it wasn't long until he reached the top. Now on the vantage point, he unslung the German rifle and crouched down behind some stone brick, resting the muzzle on it. The Courier peered through the scope; It was a simple design, two flat lines on either side going to the center with a pointed line coming up from the bottom, with nothing connecting them or anything in the upper half. It was scratched and unclean, but he could still see through the scope and saw another squad soldiers with a Crusader Unit leading them. Leading them to the castle. Ensuring there was a round in the chamber, Nathan aimed his rifle and soon rested the pointed tip on the chest of a soldier, easily within a hundred meters of range. He had his trigger on the finger and was one swift movement of ending this man's life.

But Nathan restrained himself and hesitated.

This man with the German flag on his shoulder wasn't a Talon foot soldier, or a scumbag merc waiting to get paid for a job well done. It was just a grunt, responding to a threat being posed to his homeland. He – they – must've had thoughts, even memories, of the Omnic Crisis that Nathan had just figured a scant couple of hours, ago. For what seemed like the first time in a long time, the Courier put himself in the shoes of someone between his crosshairs. Other than that, evidence of the Omnics still surrounded him. He growled at his indecisiveness as he peered through the scope again and aimed at the man again, but deciding to place the shot on his leg.

Squeezing the trigger, the old rifle sounded off and Nathan watched the man collapse to the ground but screaming.

"Sorry about that…" the Californian muttered under his breath.

Chambering another round, he watched as two men ran to their comrade's side and tried to drag him out of view while the others scrambled and tried to figure out where that shot came from. He guided the scope to the left, landing on one of the men trying to help their friend. Aiming low to avoid hitting vitals, he fired off another round and hit him square in the boot, sending him to the ground clutching it. A few moments after, one man ran to him and hoisted him over his body firemen-style, but giving Nathan another target to incapacitate. He fired off his third round, expecting it to send them both to the ground, but not bounce off a blue wall of glowing-energy.

"Oh, shit…" he cursed, lifting his eye from the scope to see. "I forgot they could do that."

Now, a large, rectangular energy barrier emanating from the Crusader's left arm put itself between the Californian and the Germans. There wasn't much he could do with the old rifle anymore, and any attempt would just be wasting ammunition. Rifle shots pinging off the stone forced him to take cover and now indicated his position was compromised. He reloaded his rifle, swiftly, but slowly peered out from cover to get a glimpse. More rifle fire forced him back, and curse himself as he was now stuck where he was. He tried to come up with another plan, trying to weasel his way out of this. But the sounds of rotors chopping through the air forced him to look to his left and up to the air, seeing the silhouette of a helicopter. It was the third, slimmer one. And it was coming straight for him.

"Fffuuucckk!" he screamed as he jumped from his nest and narrowly avoided cannon fire from the gunship, sending stone and debris everywhere in his wake.

He slammed against the ground and writhed in pain for a couple of seconds until he pushed himself up and took off running to his right. Unfortunately, he was cut off, as the first squad of soldiers from before had arrived and were now engaging the Courier. Nathan narrowly avoided the charging mass of their Crusader Unit and took off into the opposite direction. He unholstered his pistol and fired back as he ran, a few rounds pinging off the armor before the blue shield was activated and shimmered from the rest of the magazine. Running and evading rifle fire, he spotted a staircase that led down and dove in. A column of fire nearly immolating him.

Now finding himself in a lower level, he was about to go up the staircase he immediately saw but stopped upon hearing voices approaching. He chose right, going through the hallway, and taking them for where ever they were going to lead him. The sound of a gun charging went off behind him.

" _Halt!_ " commanded a German soldier. " _Oder ich wer-"_

Nathan promptly responded by swiftly launching a spear at him.

" _Was_ -" the spear missed but lodged itself into the wall, dangerously close. He stumbled backwards out of surprise, falling on his ass. " _Scheiße!_ "

While that man was pissing his pants, Nathan kept on running; Taking a wooden staircase, running through a doorway, and immediately finding the doorway to the castle, the one he's been using. Gunfire made him twirl around and see the soldiers firing at him from across the gap. The Courier retaliated, but making sure to only wound, not kill. Thus, he downs to soldiers by clipping them in their shoulders, knocks one off his feet by shooting him in the shin, and another taking a round to his foot. All in quick succession. His age still hasn't gotten the better of him, yet.

The last round in his rifle stayed unfired as their Crusader brought their shield up. It blocked his rounds, but not theirs, Nathan then taking cover behind ramparts that were already crumbling. However, voices and footsteps echoing from the doorway he just came from made would soon force him out. One of the footsteps sounded heavier, metallic. It wouldn't be long until they make it up those stairs. Grasping his rifle, he retrieved the last grenade from his belt, but hesitant to use it. He didn't have much a choice. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the doorway, hearing it clatter against the floor.

" _Granate! Runter-!_ " one of the soldiers screams, before being cut off by the detonation. A tinge of regret shapes on the Courier's face, beneath his mask, but it doesn't waver him as he bolts back into the castle.

Running in still expecting Bastion to be inert, he was surprised to see the bot round the corner just as he was about to himself.

"Bastion?!" he exclaimed, both happy and shocked to find the robot now active. "You're alive!"

"Dee boop boo dwee de boop?!" it hurriedly asked, concerned about all the gunfire.

"It's nothing. We need to get out here! Fast!"

There was a sudden crackle of static, making Nathan jump as it went off in his helmet. Bastion cocked its head to the side, wondering why their friend acted like that.

"Nathan, are you there?" he heard the Brit's voice, laced with apprehension rather than pep. "We're near your location but we're picking up a large amount of activity and radio chatter. What's going on?!"

"German military's here!" he shouted. "They found Ba- Agghh!"

Rifle fire sounded off inside the castle, and Nathan crumpled to the floor with a pained scream and his rifle clattering to the floor. Clutching his left shoulder, the pain stinging as he immediately tried to put pressure on the gunshot wound. He felt it get warm with blood pouring. The Courier snarled in his helmet and instantly spun around with his pistol at the ready and began firing in the general direction of where the shot came from. He watched as a man fell to the ground, becoming limp. Half a second later, Nathan realized what he had done in his short spurt of rage. On the ground, he saw troops and powered armor units filling in, their weapons pointed to the front. But there was a sound of machines churning and clanking. He looked back, to no longer see a bipedal robot, but a large, emplaced minigun. The lights on its body were blood-red, again.

An unrelenting barrage of high-caliber munitions at a flooded the dark interior with a shower of light, and a thunderous register. Troops ducked to ground and cover, and the two Crusaders putting up their barriers that rippled uncontrollably from the sheer firepower they pitted up against. They still held and seeing this, Bastion raised the turret up and started firing at the stone ceiling. It fared much worse, stones and bricks crumbling from the power and falling onto the Germans. Eventually, a large part of the ceiling collapsed onto the squads, sending a cloud of smoke and obscuring vision.

Nathan got up on his feet, still clutching his shoulder, and retrieved his rifle as he slung it over his back. He knocked on Bastion, prompting the robot to transform back into its bipedal shape and glow blue again. There was more static on Nathan's radio.

"Brin! Brin! Are you there?!" he heard the Brit yell over the radio. "Please respond!"

"I-I'm here!" the wounded Waster rasped out. "What's the problem?"

"The LZ is hot as hellfire right now! Are you inside the castle?"

"Yeah!"

"Then go to the spot where that big hole in the wooden ceiling is! The one further inside!"

"Why?!"

"Just go!"

He argued no more, and ran further inside the castle with Bastion. It wasn't long until he was back at the throne, where Balderich rested. He waited, waited to find out what the hell the pilot had planned. It didn't make sense for them to retreat further into the keep. He looked back, hearing metallic footsteps approaching. Then, just like what happened with what Bastion did, the palace's wooden ceiling collapsed, splintering and cracking, rubble nearly falling on the two. Then spilled in the large body of an Overwatch dropship. The ramp lowered, and Reinhardt was the first to get his boots on the ground in his shining armor.

"Get on the ship! Hurry!" the old German ordered in his booming voice, before realizing Nathan wasn't the only one there. "I will retrieve my… Is that a -?!"

"Just fucking ignore it and get your dead friend! Go!"

The usually boisterous German complied and nodded, running to the throne to retrieve his fallen ally. Nathan and Bastion climbed onto the ramp, noticing a yellow blur flying in before them. Boarding the ship, Nathan immediately went over to the booth and sat down, taking off his helmet and gasping for air. Bastion stood in the middle, beeping with interest as it looked around the cabin. A few moments later, the ship slightly tipped to the side as Reinhardt climbed aboard, getting the corpse of his mentor and his mace into the cabin. After he set them down, he banged on the interior wall.

"We can go now, Lena!  _Mach schnell!_ "

As the dropship rose and the ramp was closing, Nathan's eyes widened in horror as he caught a glimpse of the two Crusader Units staring at them with their hammers in hand. However, they merely stared and craned their helmeted heads as they watched the ship slowly rise from it crazy landing, not even attempting to sling fire at it. They were soon out of sight, as the ship gained altitude.

"I hate to the bearer of bad news," the British pilot announced over the intercom. "But we're not out of the woods, yet! An Attack Heli is on our tail with a full salvo of missiles!"

Beeping emitted from the cockpit, growing more intense, and the sound of flares being deployed and an explosion going off. The occupant in the cabin trembled from the force of the cabin shaking. Bastion then approached Nathan at the booth, before booping and beeping something to him. It was a plan.

"You wanna do what?" the man questioned, apprehension sparking across his face.

"Boop deep booboop beep be beep!" it explained.

As risky and dangerous as the robot's plan seemed, it, unfortunately, had a point. And Nathan doesn't exactly want to crash into the forest again, so that may have swayed his opinions a tad. They only have on shot at this, so they had to make it count.

"Lena!" Nathan yelled to the cockpit. "Lower the ramp and make it face wherever the helicopter is. We're gonna try and make it piss off!"

"Are you mental?!" the Pilot screamed out. "How are you going to do that?!"

"It's not me! It's the Bastion that's gonna do it!"

"You what, mate?! There's a Bastion on-board?! The bloody hell is it going to do?!"

Another explosion from a rocket shook the cabin, more intense this time.

"It going to make sure we all don't fall in the forest! NOW DO IT!"

The cockpit was silent, but there was a sudden decrease in speed from the ship and it yawed to the right. The ramp lowered, the sound of rushing winds being let in, and in the distance, was the silhouette of the helicopter fast approaching.

Bastion trudged over to the ramp, near to the edge, as he looked out to the sky. The Courier thought for sure turn back into a minigun and give the helicopter a lead storm. Yet, the Omnic always seemed to have surprises in store, as it then transformed into a literal tank!

"Boo do de dee de deeee!" it sounded out, transforming into a heavy ordinance-piece and promptly sent explosive shells into the directions of the helicopter. Its cannon booming throughout the ship's interior. The vehicle began to bob and weave, trying to evade the warhead as they rocket towards it. One of the shells detonated close to the hull, knocking it around and causing it to smoke. The hunter now relented, flying back in the other direction and away from the dropship. They were now in the clear.

The ramp closed back up, and the dropship started to fly back home with no other warning from the cockpit. Nathan slumped back into the seat, properly relieved from their rescue. The approaching form of Zenyatta made him cast a tired expression to the Omnic Monk.

"You are wounded," Zenyatta calmly observed. "Here. This should help."

Holding open palms in front of him, a glowing golden orb of energy formed in front of him before he cast it before him and the orb floated over to Nathan and anchored to him. Somehow, the pain in his shoulder began to dull and his breathing became steadier as a wave of euphoria showered over him. He closed his eyes and reclined further into the booth.

"Thanks," he muttered gratefully to the Omnic, his eyes still closed.

After receiving what he assumed to be medical attention, the burnt-out and tired Courier just sat in the booth. Breathing heavily as he could feel the sweat pool from his brow. He almost began to fall into a trance in his state, and like it always did, his mind began to wander and think about what had just happened.

Gibraltar. Egypt. Britain. Here. It seems like everywhere he goes in this world the Courier always finds himself in deep enough shit that someone must come and save him. Eventually, he thought, he's going find himself in a dire situation too deep to climb out of. Where his luck will truly run out.

'Heh,' a sly thought made him chuckle, though it wasn't nearly as innocuous as it looked. 'I'm fooling myself to think I could pull through anything and everything, it's just only a matter of time.'

What happened in that old little village was just further testament to what would be the inevitable. He knew the only thing left for him to do is prepare when the time does come.

"Are you all right, my friend," the voice of a concerned Metallic Monk ringing his ear. "Do you require assistance?"

The Courier opened his eyes to address the Omnic, a thoughtful expression presented itself. Back home, in the Mojave, he was known as a legend. As Courier Six, or more simply,  _The Courier_. Though, he would be a terrible liar to say that he was alone in his exploits and journeys. Whether it was the Mojave, Sierra Madre, Utah, Big Mountain, or even The Divide, he was never truly alone. He wondered where his friends were if they even knew he was gone.

"I'm just wondering…"

"Yes, Mr. Brin?"

"…Where the hell did Bastion learn that tune?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to any native-German speakers for any inaccuracies in the German in this chapter.


	19. More Stories

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

The Courier, the Pilot, the Crusader, the Monk, the Bastion, and the Bird finally made it back to Gibraltar, the dropship mostly in one piece this time. They all filed out onto the landing pad, greeted by very familiar sights and most of them not paying any mind to it, except for their newest automaton arrival.

Bastion whirred a sound of astonishment and hesitance as its blue eye scanned the base it was in. The bird flew around the strange environment of concrete and metal before settling back on Bastion's mossy form. Zenyatta and Nathan stayed at its side, the latter particularly observant for any reactions from the Unit or the people working the landing pad. He noticed there were some worried glances cast toward their direction, some glares, too. On the other hand, the Soldier-Omnic seemed oblivious to the attention as it continued staring at the blue sky and rocky mountainsides. Zenyatta still seemed tranquil, and an atmosphere of calm complimenting the larger Omnic next to him.

'Things certainly have become busier when I was gone,' the Courier remarked silently, noticing the landing site was bustling with much more activity than before.

A slight whirring noise made him look back to the dropship and see Reinhardt and a couple of staff carrying Balderich's body on a large, floating cart, his mace at the side. Brigitte was there, too, helping to guide the cart through the base. The large German was oddly quiet as he escorted his master through the base. The Waster watching him go until they were already out of sight.

"Bweeeooo weeeooo?" Bastion inquired, making Nathan turned back around to regard it.

"Yup," Nathan answered. "I guess this is your new home, now. Don't know how they're going to accommodate you, but I'm sure they'll figure out something. Sorry about the lack of grass."

"… Doo do weeooo?"

"Huh?"

Bastion pointed to the front and Nathan followed, realizing that they were being approached by a group Overwatch operatives, none of them he's has met. And they were armed. The one taking point, a woman, had dark skin and wavy blonde hair and carried herself with a seasoned gait. As she got closer, a tag on her uniform became more legible and was stitched with the surname "Mirembe". The Courier narrowed his eyes under the mask and growled lowly as they approached.

"You sure do know how to roll out the red carpet," he sarcastically quipped as they stopped in front of them. The woman wasn't deterred and maintained her professionalism.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said in a foreign accent. "But the Bastion Unit must come with us. Security Protocols, sir."

"Not going to cut him some slack, huh?"

"That's up to the higher-ups."

"It's always up to 'higher-ups', isn't it?"

Saying that Nathan took a step closer to the group, closing the gap between him and her. Some of the guards behind their leader reacted to the gesture, getting a bit cautious. Before the tension could get worse, a white hand graced Nathan's shoulder and he looked down to see it was Dr. Angela Ziegler, wearing a blue work shirt and black dress pants under a doctor's coat. She had her holopad with her, as well as a look of concern.

"Nathan, Athena and Lena had told me what had happened," she said, with a slightly commanding but caring tone. "I think you should come with me to the clinic and have you checked out. Please?"

The man's expression softened as he regarded her, but he looked back to Bastion and was hesitant to leave the bot in new territory alone. He barely trusted most of Overwatch, so why should he ensure them to his new mechanical friend.

"Go on and let the Doctor tend to you," Zenyatta hummed out, catching on to Nathan's concern. "Worry not. I will stay by and look after our mutual friend."

He regarded the floating Omnic, still worried about the armed guards, but looked back at his left shoulder and clutched it as there was still a faint sensation of pain. However, he immediately disregarded that pain as he looked back at Bastion and waited for the bigger robot's response. For their say in all of this. Bastion regarded him before giving a mechanical wave. Eventually, he gave the Monk an entrusting nod.

"Come with me, please," Dr. Ziegler said, tugging on Nathan's arm, and leading him to the medical wing.

He followed, but before he went further, he got close to Mirembe and hissed at her with a potent venom in his voice. "You  _better_  be careful."

She darted to eyes at him in an irritated and shook glare before quickly casting them back to the front.

Nathan continued following the doctor away from them, noticing he gained a limp somehow, but soon looked back to the dropship and watched as the guards began to escort Bastion to wherever there were going to take him. Zenyatta following suit, with the bird on his shoulder.

They had reached the infirmary, shortly after, Nathan looking around and taking it in as he was heavily sedated the first time he was here. Immediately on his left was the door to an office, that he assumed belonged to Dr. Ziegler. Before him were two rows of hovering hospital beds, separated by green curtains strung up by rings. However, the Doctor led them to the left, where there was a hallway with multiple numbered rooms. She opened the door to the first one, gesturing for Nathan to walk in. He obliged and found himself in a small room that also had a floating cot, but had cabinets, drawers, and counter along some of the walls.

"Take your clothes off and lie down on the bed, please," the Doctor asked, tapping on her holopad. "So, I can get a thorough examination of the extent of your injuries."

Nathan did as he was told, laying his gear and weapons on a nearby chair, and taking off his apparel to the point where he was only in his boxers. He then laid down, presenting his scarred, muscly body to the Doctor as she went over and began to press some buttons on the bed.

"Your, uh," Dr. Ziegler started and hesitating a bit. "'Pip-Boy' as well, please."

The Waster regarded her with a slightly displeased expression before he powered down the wrist bound computer, then unlocking the biometric mag-locks with a hiss and sliding the gauntlet off. The Doctor grabbed it and placed it on the counter before going back to the bed's controls. A scanner rose from the bed's footrest and began to go over the man's body, a green line washing over him as he tried to stay still. It went over his body again, from head to toe, until it blinked off and retracted into the bed.

"Fancy…" he remarks, still staring at the ceiling.

"I'm not used to state of the art facilities these days," she states, as she began to manipulate new holo-images on her tablet. "Which, thankfully, makes my job much easier and less of a headache than it has recently been."

The Doctor brought up two holograms into the air, both x-rays of his left arm and right leg, respectively. While his left arm seemed fine for the most part, but his right leg still hasn't completely healed yet and was the reason for why he was limping minutes earlier. All that action at the castle probably made it worse.

"For someone who fell hundreds of meters through the air, into a forest, and was stranded for two days; I expected much worse than two minor fractures and a through-and-through gunshot wound," the blonde physician stated, genuinely astonished at the Courier's state.

"Well, you are forgetting the couple hundred lacerations I got on my legs and arms from falling through the trees," he mentioned, with a bit of a dry wit. "But all-in-all, I think the Stimpaks and my implant did a good job holding me together. Wouldn't you agree?"

A slight smile formed on Angela's face as she began to inspect Nathan's right shoulder, before going to a cabinet and retrieving a pair of blue latex gloves, tongs, cotton balls, and a bottle of a rubbing alcohol. She put the gloves on her hands and starts to dab a cotton ball with the disinfectant.

"I'll have to disinfect your wounds first before activating the biotic field," Angela stated, about to start. "Then, after about an hour, you should be free to go."

"Good," Nathan stated. "I'm in no rush."

Dr. Angela Ziegler began to dab the disinfectant all over Nathan's body, wherever there were cuts and lacerations that haven't healed up yet. The sharp stings from the liquid did cause Nathan to wince from time to time, promptly followed by apologies from Angela. Other than that, it was largely silent between the two as the Doctor kept dabbing wet cotton balls over the man. However, her eyes sometimes glanced to the man's chest and arms, to all the scars he was brandishing. It wasn't the first time she's seen them, but her curiosity didn't waver. They varied in their length and depth, some as small and thin as her finger, others large and scaling the entirety of his limb. The only part of his body that seemed remotely unscathed was where he wore his Pip-Boy, the flesh also noticeably paler in skin tone. The scars and the stories he had behind some of them could be further proof of his "origin". The blonde had just gotten to the gunshot wound on the man's shoulder when he took notice of her ogling.

"Something wrong?" he asked, perking an eyebrow at her.

"No," she responded, shaking her head as she ditched the dirtied cotton ball and grabbed a fresh one. "It's just the scars you have. I've never really seen so much on one man. I think Reinhardt has you beat but knowing him…"

"Morbid curiosity, huh? Wanna know the story behind some of them?

She looked at Nathan in the eye, cocking her head to the side, before returning to the task at hand.

"Why not? It could help pass the time and help with a diagnosis," she quipped. "Why not tell me how you got… _This one?_ "

The Doctor gestured to a large scar that scaled the side of his left bicep, one of the larger ones on the arm. The Courier looked, and let out a disappointed huff as soon as he recognized where he got it from.

"Okay, the story behind that one is not really exciting," he started, a grimace forming across his mouth. "And it's kinda dumb."

"Aww," Angela protested, trying to sound disappointed. "I wanted to hear it."

"I didn't say anything about that. Basically, I was in my workshop one day, cleaning up my inventory. I got up from my chair to get something but I ended up slipping on some excess oil that was on the floor. Fell on one of the weapons I had lying on the ground, a Winchester P94  _Plasma Caster_  of all things."

"A ' _Plasma Caster_ '? How did it cause this?"

"Their muzzles basically double as a bayonet – no, a  _spear_  – and I fell right on top of it. Cutting deep enough to scar like this. Now I have a constant reminder to put my weapons away after I'm done tinkering with them."

"Hmm. I don't know. It sounds like a good moral story about responsibility and mindfulness."

"So, not be me, then?"

Angela suddenly lets out a lighthearted chuckle, holding her wrist to her smiling mouth as she still held onto the tongs holding the cotton swabs. Nathan furrowed his brow at the laughing woman but couldn't really blame her. He did set himself up for that, incidentally. The scarred man sighed out of slight annoyance. The Doctor started to calm down, going back to tending his wounds, all while still having a smirk on her face.

"I'm sorry, Nathan," she said, still letting the giggles out. "I just found it funny."

"Good to see my tall tales are entertaining," he notes, not really entertained. "That just means you still owe me."

A tilt of confusion replaces the Doctor's amusement as she addressed Nathan with her brows furrowed.

"What do you mean by that?"

"About a week ago, after I told you my history I asked for yours. Willing to share?"

Dr. Ziegler stares at Brin and regarded him with a curious look. She gestured him to sit up so she could get access to the exit-wound on his back. More scars across greeted the doctor and mentally made her grimace.

"Well, if you must know," she began, already starting to dab alcohol on the wounds. "I was born in Zürich, Switzerland, worked at a prominent Swiss Hospital, pioneered the use of nanotechnology, and was recruited by Overwatch at 17 to be the head of their medical research, and after that all collapsed I responded to crisis zones, wherever I could. A few years later and I'm back here again."

Nathan let out a long whistle at the achievements the Swiss Doctor listed, shaking his head.

"You have some serious accomplishments under your belt, no doubt about that," he complimented honestly. "What about your family? Your parents? What can you tell me about them?"

There was a slight pause from the Swiss Woman before she went back to dabbing the disinfectant, but noticeable enough for her patient to catch on to it. He begins to think he dug a bit too deep with this one. A small sinking feeling already forming in his stomach coupling the stinging in his shoulder.

"They were…" the Doctor went on, clearly hesitant on either what to say or how to react. "Two very loving people, and I loved them very much. I, unfortunately, lost them early in the Omnic Crisis."

"I'm… Sorry," the Courier apologized, a solemn face taking hold as he turned his head away from her and staring blankly at the wall. "Didn't mean to pry."

"It's quite all right, I know you didn't mean to and I can't blame you for being curious. And Reinhardt had told me they found you at  _Eichenwalde_. That town and the surrounding areas was a serious point of contention during the war, at least in Germany. And the Bastion Unit you brought back… I doubt it will make things any easier around the base."

Nathan had to agree with her on that, sadly. He might have to keep a close eye on the bot. Better him than anyone else.

"Well, Bastion's not exactly harmless but he's not bloodthirsty, either. But, yeah, being there and seeing things.  _The Great War_  comes to mind…"

As she put away the alcohol and cotton balls and began to wrap gauze around his shoulder, Angela looked at Nathan, a tinge of sympathy growing within her as she watched his visage become grimmer. Whether she believed he was from a different Earth, it was almost a fact that he has been through so much. They both did. She tapped on his shoulder, making him look into her blue orbs, a warm, friendly smile on her face.

"Now is not the time to be thinking about that," she said, smiling but shaking her head at the same time. She pressed a button on the bed and a golden glow immediately washed over the Courier, the effect like Zenyatta's golden orb. "Now is the time to rest. For one hour at least. Doctor's orders!"

The Waster couldn't help but return a small smile. Out of gratitude, at least.

"Sure thing, doc," he obliged, before lying down on a soft pillow and staring at the ceiling once again. "Uh, thanks, and sorry for bringing that subject up."

"No worries, Brin," Angela responded as she disposed the gloves and put the supplies back. "Call me if there's anything you need."

With one final smile, Dr. Ziegler left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the Courier all alone inside. Nathan exhaled deeply as he stared up at the ceiling, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind. Being teleported to an alternate Earth, being jailed temporarily by a paramilitary organization, and being contracted by the same organization, he didn't expect to make friends. Well, Bastion became a friend similar how a dog likes someone because they just acted nice to it. Zenyatta just seems to be friendly with everyone so it wasn't much of a challenge to befriend him. And Angela… It was more of an acquaintanceship but he guessed her reputation as the "Good Doctor" preceded her. Still, it was something.

Before Nathan could properly relax, a holoimage flashed on the foot of Nathan's bed and he saw Athena there.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Brin," the AI apologized. "But Winston has requested to see you once your treatment has finished."

The man groaned as he slumped his head back into the pillow, not even catching a break in the infirmary.

"Tell him I'll be there in an hour," the patient merely said, still staring at the ceiling.

"Very well," Athena responded, about to blink off until she stopped herself. "Oh, and Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

"Glad to have you back."

Her hologram disappeared, leaving Nathan alone for the one hour he had.

* * *

The one hour went by quicker than he would've have liked.

Once he left the infirmary, limp-free, he went back to his quarters and dropped off his gear and armor. Walking to Winston's in a clean, loaned Overwatch shirt and black combat pants, the Courier eventually reached the Scientist's lab and went upstairs to his office. Winston was at his desk, looking at some holovids he had projecting from his computer. He didn't even notice Nathan walking up to him until the man cleared his throat to make his presence known.

"Oh! You're here! Good…" the Gorilla said as he paused the video and turned to face the man. "I need to discuss something with you."

"What?" he asked, noticing how the ape seemed concerned and frustrated with something.

"It's about what happened in Germany – in  _Eichenwalde_. Your actions there have caused some concern. I think I should let this speak for itself."

Winston grabbed the holovid and placed it in front of Nathan, displaying what looked like a newscast. A woman with brown hair and formal attire was looking at the camera, and in the bottom-left was a red and white logo of the world with the words "Atlas News" at the bottom. Next to that was a headline that read "Bastion Sighting – German Military Engaged in Ruins of  _Eichenwalde_ ".

"Despite the rumors and sightings of the supposed Bastion Omnic in the German Black Forest," the reporter started, images of Bastion Units appearing beside her with blood-red eyes and a different paint job. "It wasn't until a report of a dangerous confrontation between the Bastion Unit and a family camping in the woods led to an Omnic-Hunt carried out by the German Military."

Another image appeared next to her, but of a familiar-looking town that had a people walking about and cars driving by. It was the village before it was lost.

"The search eventually led the military to the ruins of  _Eichenwalde_ , a town long-since abandoned since the Battle of  _Stuttgart,_  around thirty years ago. However, as the search teams landed within the town, they were first engaged not by a Bastion Unit, but a man in black armor."

The video cut from the newscaster to an interview of a man in a red beret and a grey officers uniform. The tags identified him as one of the Crusader Units. He spoke in German, but his words were translated by subtitles that appeared at the bottom.

"After landing outside of  _Eichenwalde_ Castle, my men and I came under sniper fire from an unknown assailant. He wounded some of our men but we were able to pursue him into the insides of the castle, where we were finally engaged by the Omnic."

"What happened after?" an interviewer asked.

"The Bastion then proceeded to open fire on the roof, collapsing part of the castle on us. After we had cleared ourselves of the rubble we gave chase, but they were already gone before we could've done anything."

'He's lying?' Nathan questioned to himself, remembering how the two Crusaders did give chase but practically watched and didn't do anything as the dropship was still embedded into the castle. 'Why?'

"What did the man look like?"

"He wore a dark coat over metal armor and had a helmet with glowing red eyes. He also had this strange gauntlet over his left arm and was, for some reason, armed with an old Karabiner. However, we did not get a chance to see his face."

The video cut back to the woman, who had a grainy image of silver-headed Talon soldiers next her.

"While the description of the assailant matches that of soldiers from the terrorist-group – Talon – it also matches the description of a man spotted in Egypt and Great Britain, working alongside what many are calling the 'New Overwatch'."

Grainy images then replaced the Talon soldiers, one showing him outside the compound, among the rubble, in Giza and another showing him leaning against the Overwatch dropship in King's Row.

'Ah fuck…' was all he could think in his mind.

"It has also been reported that an Overwatch dropship was spotted leaving the area and was pursued by a helicopter until it was forced to break away after sustaining heavy damage. Eight men have been wounded, including one who is in critical condition. The identity of this man has not been confirmed, and there has yet been no official word from the U.N. regarding this incident."

The video blinked off, leaving the man and the gorilla alone except for the slight glow of orange that cast off the Mediterranean Sea. Winston had an easily unamused expression as he stared at Nathan, who wasn't delighted by the news either.

"So," the man said, regarding Winston with a defensive gaze. "What happens now?"

"Now…" the gorilla responded, pushing up his glasses as he breathed out deeply. "We're still stretched thin and you have proven yourself capable, so… I still have missions in the upcoming future for you, but you need to be careful. Your recklessness in Germany could've cost us a great loss! It could've caused the U.N. to bear down on us with all they have!"

"The more you say, 'stretched thin', the more I'm beginning to think being in a cell wouldn't have been a bad idea compared to… This."

"That still doesn't change what happened in Germany. You shot at them, for God's sake!"

"I needed to distract them. If I didn't they would've found Bastion and turned him into a scrap heap. If it wasn't for him, I would still be stranded in the forest."

"But did you need to shoot at them?! One of the men is in critical condition because of you. If he dies, it's not just on you, it's also on all of Overwatch!"

Nathan's fist tightened at that, his face contorting out of anger.

"Don't try to lump me in with your band of merry men!" he vehemently spat out, glaring at the gorilla. "I didn't ask for any of this! If I remember correctly,  _you_ were the one who contracted me into Overwatch. And you were also the one who asked Dr. Ziegler to spy on me and still let me come on your missions. If anything, that man's death is on  _your_  hands you  _fucking ape_!"

Winston rose from his "chair" and got within Nathan's space, his face mere inches from his. He was getting angry, sparks starting to crackle from his face and baring his canines as he snarled at the man. The Courier stood his ground, maintaining his stoic visage, and not backing down from the scientist.

"Do not bring Angela into this!" the Scientist yelled. "She had nothing to do with your reckless actions in Germany and I easily trust her judgment as sane and rational. But not  _yours_!"

"As do I," the Courier accepted. "But that still leaves us at odds. So, go ahead! Fuckin' pummel me into a  _bloody pulp!_  Jail me! Whatever! Don't let me soil your little club!"

They glared at each other for several long moments, until Winston closed his mouth but kept his furious expression. The sparks were beginning to die down. The Courier still clenched his first.

"As much as I would like to," the Scientist stated, relaxing his stance and composure. "You're still an asset to Overwatch and we still have a deal to meet."

"Hmm," the man hummed out, uncertain at the sincerity. "Anything else?"

"Fareeha's colleagues at Helix were finally able to crack the data we gave them, regarding Hakim's whereabouts," Winston explained as he went back to his desk, in a tense tone. "I don't have everything yet, but when I do… Athena will notify you."

"Understood," was all the Courier said as he walked out of Winston's office and eventually back out in the open Gibraltar air.

He stopped, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and pulling one out. He noticed he was running low and that he had to restock soon, somehow. After lighting the tip and taking a good drag from the stick of centuries-old tobacco, he walked over to the cliffside and watched as the sun set into the horizon, glistening off the water. He gave another drag and blew the cloud into the ocean. His mind not being easily as eased by the tobacco as he would've liked.

"And why might you be here?" asked a robotic voice.

Nathan looked to the left and saw the metal man, Genji, sitting on the edge with his legs crossed and his scabbards placed to the side. One hand rested on his knee, while another formed a two-fingered gesture in front of his chest. His head was bowed, obscuring the green visor of his eyes.

"I don't know," the smoking man let out. "I guess I just like looking at water. Not too many sights like these back home."

"The same," the resting man responded. "It's beautiful here! I could never appreciate it before."

After that small exchange, silence reigned between the two. The only sounds being the squawking of the seabirds, the crashing of the wave against the rocks below, and the sound of Nathan breathing in smoke and letting it out. He just stood there, staring at the waves as his mind began to race with so many things, mainly questions. Whether he made a mistake agreeing to help Overwatch. He set out to get back home, but the Transportalponder is nowhere on the horizon in front of him. He didn't know how long it will take to find it. How long he'll be stuck with Overwatch.

"Frustrated?" the Japanese man asked, his head slightly turning to Nathan.

"One way of putting it," the Californian answered, burning up his cigarette before throwing it onto the ground and stamping it out. "Fuck it. I'm going to the bar."

"May I join you?"

Nathan stopped in his tracks and looked back at the metal man, still on the ground, with an incredulous look.

"Ya' serious?"

" _Hai_. I find things are most enjoyable when with company."

"You can say that about of lots of things. You really wanna come along with me? You seem fine here, facing the setting sun."

"I have had my fill of solitude for the day," he said, getting up from his peaceful position to face the taller man.

Nathan couldn't but help frown, wondering what was with the man he hasn't spoken to since the time he saved him from that blue-woman.

"Ehhh, sure," he accepted. "I don't remember properly thanking you for saving me from that woman that day. I'll buy you a drink. Er- You can drink, can you?"

Genji let out a slight chuckle as he walked with Nathan to the base's bar.

* * *

A Cave, Northwest of Goodsprings, Mojave Wasteland

2285

The cave was dark and damp, a musty smell pervading their noses as they tried to maneuver through the cramped spaces with what little visibility they had. Oddly enough the cave was spacious, easily having enough room for the group to not stumble trying to move in any direction, but there were Pre-War equipment and junk scattered across the cave floor. Some of them were simple things like furniture and valueless trinkets, others were large pieces of equipment that looked like they belong in old Pre-War laboratories… Or military installations. Large growths of branches and flora also obstructed the way.

Ranger Parmley took point with a pair of Night-Vision Goggles over his eyes and tried to guide the rest of the group through the thicket. He also had his rifle out, just in case.

"Geez, this place gives me the creeps," he lamented, climbing over a large branch growing out of the ground. "I never liked going into caves…"

"Just keep walking straight ahead," Veronica instructed, keeping close to him as the others were behind her. "I think we're getting close."

They then climbed upwards, a path in the cave leading them to a metal door. Veronica stepped forward, and after twisting the latch, the metallic door opened and the lights blinked on to reveal a bunker built into the cave. They first walked in what seemed to be a living room, chairs, a couch, a table, and a T.V. to their immediate right and a kitchen to their left. Like many other Pre-War ruins, it was largely decayed and looked abandoned for over hundreds of years. It still looked like someone once lived here.

"Down here," Veronica then led them through the bunker, taking them through a hallway and eventually another doorway. Where they were just in a living area that seemed cozy enough for waiting out the nuclear apocalypse, they were now in a room of rusted metal and computers. What was especially strange is was what was in front of them. A row of "pods" with these strange, cylindrical contraptions that look like electrical transformers hanging over each of them. Surrounded by equipment and consoles that still had power surging through them, indicated by the blinking lights.

"Oh, this place…" Boone grumbled, unpleasant thoughts entering his mind as he reminisced.

"Where are we?" Parmley asked, clueless as to what he was looking at.

"We stumbled upon this bunker with Nathan about a year or two ago," Veronica began to explain, as she went over to one of the consoles, examining it. "All the records he was able to find referred to this place as a 'relay station'. Long story short, this place teleports people."

"… No shit?"

"We likewise shared the sentiment the first time we stumbled through one of those relays. Quite a revelation that day… Vomit inducing, too."

Parmley glanced at her for a second, not sure if he wanted to know the story behind those choice words, and got closer to the relays. Not too close, of course. As he walked alongside the pods and inspected them, he noticed they all had notes pasted onto them, displaying handwritten words to possibly indicate where they lead to. Some of them seemed tame and benign, such as "Ruins", "Depot", and "Empty Room". Others were much more intriguing with their descriptions. And foreboding. When he walked up to the second to the last pod, the word on the note had all its letter capitalized and multiple lines scrawled beneath it. If that wasn't enough emphasis, it also had large exclamation marks all over the note and in any space available. It only had the word "DEATHCLAWS" written on it.

"Yeaaaahhh, some of the relays kinda sent us to some really shitty places," Veronica admitted, noticing what pod Parmley was standing in front of.

"I can imagine," Parmley responded, getting away from that relay pod with some haste. "So, only you guys know this place exists?"

"Pretty much. The folks in Goodsprings know this cave exists but never really ventured into here because, let's face it, spelunking into random cave ruins is never a good idea. And I doubt the NCR ever really bothered checking what they think is some dingy cave. Dumb luck, to be honest."

"So, now what?"

"Now… We get to work."

Veronica reached into her pack and pulled out the Big Mountain satellite black box, laying it next to the console she was working on. She then opened a panel on both the console and the black box, and after sifting through some wires pulled out a cable from the console that fortunately could fit one of the ports on the black box. The ex-Scribe then went over to a terminal that was emplaced on the wall and began to access the data the black box had. As best as she could, at least.

"Wow… Wow… WOW!" the ex-Scribe exclaimed, looking over all the data popping up on the terminal. "This is a lot to take in. Ibsen would have a field day with this!"

"Ah, hell, it's not going be  _that_  much of a problem, is it?" the Ranger asked, concerned they just reached a major technological roadblock.

"I don't know. There's a lot of data here that I'll have to sift through. It might take some time. You guys can take a breather while I'll try to figure all of this out…"

* * *

Waiting had already taken them halfway through the day, the sun already setting unbeknownst to the people within the cave. Parmley and Cooper were in the living area, the former sitting in the booth eating some of the food stocked up here and the latter silently watching. Parmley was starting to get quite bored, getting halfway through a can of "Pork N' Beans" before just lazily stirring his spoon through the soup. A small whimper made him look down to see Cooper staring up at him, licking his chops expectantly. With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed the can and placed it on the ground in front of the dog, who proceeded to happily lap up the beans.

"Help yourself," the Ranger said, as he propped himself back into the booth and placed his Stetson over his eyes. "Wasn't that hungry, anyway."

Not even a minute later he felt a tap on his leg and adjusted the hat from his eyes. Cooper was looking back up at him, an empty can at his feet, but Rex was next to him and was looking at the metal door to the bunker. The older dog just stared at it, laying down on all fours, until he stood up and started to growl at it. The Ranger got up, picking up his rifle from the table and going over to Rex.

"What is it, boy?" he asked the robotic dog. "What's got you so riled up?"

" _Bark!_ "

He looked back at the door, thinking there might be something on the other side. The Ranger gets up and walks towards the door, slowly, and presses his ear up against the metal and tries to listen for anything moving through the cave. He hears nothing but silence beyond the door. He backs away from the door and slowly reaches toward the handle as he tries to get a proper grip on his rifle. The door opens without his help, and as the light from the bunker spills outward to the cave, it illuminates the form of the man with the twisted hairs. The one they spotted at Goodsprings.

"Woah! What the hell?!" Parmley yelped in surprise, instantly bringing the muzzle of his rifle to the man's masked face.

The man merely stared at him and looked behind the ginger-bearded man to see Veronica and Boone run-in with their weapons at the ready. All while the dogs are barking at him.

"Hey! What's wro-" the Sniper exclaimed before his eyes widened in surprise and he brought up his rifle, flipping the safety off on his bolt. "What is  _he_  doing here?"

"Helping to deliver a message," the masked man finally said, his voice a deep and gravely tenor, slightly muffled by the mask but somehow sounding calm through all of this. "As all couriers do."

"Most mailmen don't wander into an abandoned cave to follow a group of people they saw while under NCR custody. How did you get away?"

"The night provided good cover. Coupled with the fatigue of the troops and experience in captive situations; it wasn't too challenging."

"Why did you follow us?"

"As I said, I'm 'helping to deliver a message, as all couriers do'. Your message meant to be carried to another courier.  _Courier Six_."

As the man with the twisted hair said that, the party seized up and were astonished at how he seemed to know why they were there. As if he had been watching from every step of the way. This did not help their suspicions but helped raise them. Veronica was quick to voice her questions, wary that he might be one of the many enemies her friend has made in the Wastes.

"How do you know?" she questioned, still certain this could be a coincidence.

"Word travels fast around the Mojave. Faster than one expects, or one would like. And your group – your search party – you carry yourselves with a purpose. A strict, defined goal. In a similar manner to  _Courier Six_. To walk this road and find him."

"… Well, that's cryptic."

"Make of it what you will."

The three exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to think about the masked man and the words he was spouting in such an odd manner. Did this man with the twisted hairs know Nathan? How did he know Nathan, and what was he doing around The Divide? A worse thought crossed Veronica's mind, as she looked at the man in a defensive stance. Did Nathan go into The Divide? Without bothering to tell anyone, not even her? Why? And what happened?

'Great, more questions…' she thought silently to herself. 'What did you do, Nathan, ya' big dumbass?'

"Listen," she started, exhaling deeply as she was tired from the day they had. They all were. "If there's anything you have to say, just say it. Otherwise, you're just making us waste our ti-"

"They're coming."

Veronica's eyes went wide at that. "What?"

"Soldiers. Brothers of Steel. Bringing with them their Advanced Armor and Weapons. I saw a group charting the same path you did. I was just quicker."

The Scribe just stared at the man, until a flicker of light shined off the cave behind him. She rushed forward, pushing the man out of the way, and saw rays of light coming from the cave entrance. They belonged to the lights of T-51b helmets and were accompanied by the sound of metal stomps. She turned to the man with wide eyes and an annoyed tone.

"Why didn't you say that sooner?! What the hell, dude?!"

"I- Hurgh!"

The verbose man didn't even have a chance to finish the sentence before the coated women pushed him in and shut the metal door behind them. She then punched its opening mechanism with her pneumatic gauntlet and disabled it, locking themselves inside.


	20. Lessons Learned

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

A series of rifle shots went off and echoed off the walls of a very large room. Thundering with every register, accompanied by the sounds of metal clicking and sliding against each other between the brief pauses of silence. Eventually, five shots went off one after the other and the Courier pulled back the bolt on his Karabiner. The last spent cartridge falling to the floor and clattering for a few moments until it settled down.

Nathan was at the Watchpoint's range, a decent facility for those stationed here to practice with their firearms to make sure their aim didn't dull. It was an indoor range, had a row of shooting booths for individuals to occupy, a spacious walking area behind the shooting booths for easy movement, and the target range itself is a large open space with barriers and protective measures built into it. The shooting galleries themselves weren't that large - the maximum distance around fifty meters - but it was good enough for the Waster, and the use of holographic targets instead of physical ones was a novelty for him.

With a few taps on a screen on his booth's table, the holographic target floated down from the maximum distance and right up to him. The target, which was basically a digital version of the paper targets that were a simple outline of a man with highlighted sections, indicated where his shots went with a simple dot. Five shots, all of them around 8 millimeters in diameter, were in a tight group where the head was. All of them less than an inch apart from each other. It was kind of a sin to only use the old bolt-action at only fifty meters out, but at least Nathan knew the old rifle's iron sights were somewhat on-point. He took off the scope earlier as it didn't make sense to sight them in at an indoor range.

As the red eyes of his helmet, which he wore alongside casual attire as it provided both eye and ear protection, examined the group he nodded in approval before tapping a few more buttons on the screen and sending it back to the maximum distance for more shooting. He had recently made some more ammunition for the rifle at a workshop he found in the base and wanted to see if the old German Mauser worked well with it. The Waster was surprised to see that some of the materials he used had the same brand names as some Pre-War manufacturers and only wondered how much further the connections ran deep. Nathan shook that thought away, trying to concern himself with shooting for now. He enjoyed that much more.

He finished loading the magazine with more rounds, pushing the bolt forward and chambering a cartridge. He shouldered the stock, lined up the sights, and fired. Nathan operated the bolt, the piece of metal sliding smoothly and without a hiccup, and let loose another round at the target. Already pulling back the bolt and ready to repeat the cycle, he stilled as another booth to his left went unexpectedly went live with fire. Thinking he was alone. He looked and saw another holographic target, around twenty meters away from its booth, being pelted by cyan pellets of energy that traveled somewhat slowly. Still fast, but much slower than the energy weapons he was used to, even Plasma. The noise it made for some reason made Nathan think of a rodent sneezing.

Peering his helmeted head from his booth's dividers, the Mauser still pointed down range, he saw someone he wasn't expecting. It was that young girl with the brown hair, the one that spied on Nathan when he was still in the cell, and she was wearing a simple pink tank top with jean shorts along with those stylized headphones she always seems to wear. While it was not too exposing, there certainly could've been a more protective outfit to bring to the range. At least she had eye protection.

The man couldn't see what her firearm looked like due to the dividers, but judging from her stance it must've been a pistol.

'Hmm…' Nathan hummed, as his eyes scrutinized her form. 'Her stance could use some work.'

He quietly went back to his booth and his rifle, pushing the bolt forward and taking aim again at the target. He fired the last two rounds in quick succession and brought the target back to his face again to see where the custom rounds had landed. They were all on the head again but the grouping wasn't as tight as he wanted it to be. As he tried to examine the shots, another peculiar noise sounded off to the left. Against better and wiser judgment, he peered from his booth again and at the kid firing off shots from her sidearm until she had to reload. When she did so, he saw her arms move in a curious way that resulted in a funny noise when she did. It reminded him of those old holotape games.

"Goddammit, stop getting fucking distracted," he muttered lowly to himself, leaning back into his booth.

Looking down on his rifle and examining it for any gunk and residue that possibly could've formed from his custom loads, until he accidentally knocks off a few rounds from the booth table that clatter to the floor. Groaning, he bends down and picks them up, but notices something in the corner of his left eye before looking up.

"Jesus Christ, kid!" he exclaimed in surprise as he jumped and faced the young girl who was now at his booth for some reason. "Do you always sneak up on people?"

She regarded the tall man with a scrutinizing glare with her arms were crossed, perking one of her eyebrows.

"You were staring at me and saying something," she simply stated as she eyed him. "Did you need something or...?"

Nathan breathed out of annoyance and to get his heart back into the proper rhythm.

"I didn't stare at you that long," he explained, his face unamused.

"So, you were staring?!" she questioned, accusingly.

"Yes, but not to be a creep. I just thought I was alone in the range and wasn't expecting anyone else. The hell are you shooting, anyway? Looks like pellets."

Her eyebrows perked further out of slight suspicion before she gestured and led Nathan back to her booth. Once there, the man looked and saw she had an overtly pink handgun that had a black grip and furniture, and a set of pink rectangles with glowing cyan insides that he assumed were its "batteries". The girl grabbed it, ejecting a battery from its grip, and handed it to Nathan while she kept it pointed downrange.

"This is my little problem solver," she declared with a sly smirk as Nathan picked it from her smaller hands, seeing the designation 'HB50' on its side. "She can fire twenty fusion bolts at 50 meters-per-second at a rate of 420 rounds a minute. I just slap in a cell and she's ready to go!"

Nathan wasn't sure what to think of the handgun he was holding, somewhat befuddled by its appearance. The first thing that stood out to him was how small the thing was, especially in his big palm. It was clearly custom-made but looked more like it was trying to make a fashion statement with its pink furniture and attachments than to be more combat effective. That dangling trinket at the bottom of the grip was definitely there for show, and there was a decal on the side of the pink heatshield that he barely recognized as a very stylized version of her "name". He looked at the table and picked up one of the fusion cells, also dwarfed in his big hands. Smaller than the fusion cells he was used to.

"May I?" he asks, gesturing to the ammo and the gun.

"Uh, sure," she says, slightly reluctant. "Just don't mess with it too hard."

Nodding to her, he turns and faces the target she set up. He inserts the cell, hearing the gun makes the weird game noise he heard earlier. Not seeing any other bit on the sidearm for him to manipulate, he raises it and aims at the target. Ungainly in his right hand, almost uncomfortable to find a proper grip on it, he squeezes the trigger and watches as the pellet of energy flies and hits the target right where he intended. The recoil was very light, impressing even him as it felt comparable to measly .22's. He lets off a few more shots, all of them hitting their mark with ease. The Courier ejects the cell and sets the energy weapon down and looks back at the girl, seeing her with a coy grin on her face.

"So, whaddya' think?" the owner asks expectantly. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"I guess," the Wastelander responds. "If I wanted to hunt varmints."

The girl's grin was replaced with an unamused scowl before grumpily crossing her arms and lightly stomping her foot, like a rabbit.

"Seriously? That thing's top of the line, you know?"

"Really? It felt more like a pea-shooter. And that stance of yours? Surprise you've lasted this long, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Oh, yeah? Here…" Nathan grabs her pistol and holds it up to her. "Take it and let me see."

She scowled at the man, before rolling her eyes and taking the gun from his hand. The young girl then got into form, her arms jutting forward with the pistol in hand, her torso arching back a bit, and her feet adjusting their position. The older man observed her, scrutinizing her up and down before speaking up.

"You don't need to lean back that much," she heard his voice through the helmet's speaker. "Lean forward. You'll have better control over the recoil, what little there is, and don't put unnecessary stress on your back."

The kid regarded him with an irritated expression until she looked ahead and started to arch forward, to the point where her gun was hovering over the range itself. This only resulted in Nathan shaking his head more side-to-side.

"Now that's too much," he stated bluntly as he walked over with an annoyed sigh. "You're going to fall flat on your face."

She then arched back, again, almost close to what she was before.

"No, that's- Urgh, here!"

"What're you- Hey!" the young woman exclaimed as he laid his hands on her, one hand on her midsection and another on her shoulder as he tried to push her torso forward.

"Calm down, kid," the Courier reassured, his tone bored neutral as he began to adjust her footing with his boot.

"I have a name," the young girl stated, annoyed by the word he kept calling her.

"Isn't it 'Diva'?"

"It's Hana. Hana Song."

"Well, Miss Song… Here."

He stepped back and examined Song's current stance. Her torso leaned forward but just enough. Her feet were spread apart so she could get a proper footing instead of being bunched up. Finally, her arms stretched out to her front more but didn't lock her elbows just yet.

"How 'bout now?" the older man asks, wondering if she felt any improvement.

"It feels..." she says, not used to her form being like this. "Weird."

"You'll get used to it, kid. Maybe soon you'll be able to shoot real guns."

"I'm pretty sure I could handle a 'real gun', dude."

Hana didn't see it, but Nathan perked an eyebrow under his helmet before he walked back to his lane. She walked back up to her shooting table, raised her gun and tried to get back into the stance her "instructor" had shown her. As she mentioned, it felt foreign and she almost instinctively went back to the stance she did before, but she had to admit that her back felt a bit better. Suddenly, a long, dark, and brown thing then entered her view and she stepped back to see it was Nathan's old rifle in front of her, barrel pointed downrange. She looked at his helmeted head, a confused expression on her face. He tipped his head to the rifle in response.

"You said you could a handle real gun, didn't you?" he recalled, holding up two rounds for the gun in his other hand. "Let's see if you can."

Hana cast a glare up at him before she looked back at the rifle in front of her. She never liked backing down from a challenge, a competitive and somewhat overbearing spirit inside her. Even if it seemed trivial. She just liked proving people otherwise and rubbing their faces in it, but that was only when the Gamer knew she had the upper hand. The young woman grabbed the rifle, immediately caught off-guard by how heavy the wooden weapon was. The length was also ungainly for her short frame as she tried to wrap her hands around the fore-end and the semi-pistol grip.

"This thing's  _old_ , though," the kid stated the obvious, looking at it as if it was as dirty as an old sock.

"This thing's battle proven," the Courier specified. "It's probably done more than your little BB gun. Deadlier too, I'd assume."

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"Shoot it. What else?"

Nathan placed the two rounds upright on her shooting bench, dwarfing the fusion cells for her pink pistol. With little hesitation, Hana grabbed the rounds with her right hand, supporting the big rifle with her left. She pulled back the bolt and seeing the inside, inserted the two rounds into the magazine with some struggle until they audibly clicked in. She grunted as she pushed the bolt forward and chambered a round. Thankfully, those old World War II games taught her dad had taught her something.

The Gamer brings up the rifle to shoulder, feeling the metal butt plate of the stock against her skin and tries to find the iron sights in her vision. When she does, she lines them up against her target but blinks when she sees it snap farther away from what she had originally set it at. Looking to her left, the young woman sees Nathan tapping on her booth's screen before returning his arms to rest across his chest, crossed. Hana once again casts an annoyed glare at him, his expression unchanging with the mask.

"It's a rifle, kid," he said, gesturing to the weapon. "They're meant to be used at a distance. Besides, fifty-meters shouldn't be too hard, is it?"

The girl could only roll her eyes before returning to the target in front, noticing her left arm was starting to be a bit fatigued from holding it like this. She closed one eye, peering through the iron sights, and lining them up with the red holotarget which now seemed like a blur. This time, she followed the older shooter's advice and applies the same principles to this gun. She got her trigger on the finger and pulled it, causing the round to spew forth from the muzzle in a ball of fire as she flinched and rocked back from the recoil  _and_  the sound. The MEKA pilot lowered the rifle and breathed sharply, feeling the wind knocked out of her. She wasn't expecting that.

"You jerked the trigger."

She gaped at Nathan, still standing over her with crossed arms. Her expression was still slightly annoyed, but it was also attentive this time.

"Don't pull on it like a rope," the Courier instructed, demonstrating the action with his hand. "Softly curl your finger around the trigger. Squeeze it, don't pull. It won't mess up your line of sight as bad. Try again."

Hana looked at him, then down at the rifle. She brought her right hand up and grabbed the bolt's knob, cranking it up before pulling it back, watching as the spent casing ejects and falls to the floor. She pushes forward and chambers the second round, bringing the old German gun back up. She repeats what she did the first time and places her finger on the trigger, but not immediately pulling on it. Slowly, and carefully, Hana curled her finger around the metal hook, bringing it all the way back until it clicked and the Mauser went off again. The Korean girl still flinched and was rocked back but didn't have the wind knocked out of her as bad as the first time.

Nathan got closer, looked at the target before he regarded Hana and picked up the Mauser from her shaking arms. He pulled the bolt back, clearing it.

"Let's see how you did," he said, tapping on the screen, and making the holotarget appear closer.

Upon closer examination, Hana had landed one round in center mass. Well, close to center mass, as the dot was veering to the right and close to the outline of the target. And that was the only dot on the target, as they couldn't see the second one.

"At least you got one," Brin observed, addressing Song. "First for everything, kid."

"Pfft, whatever," Hana responded, attempting to not seemed embarrassed about her performance. "That gun's old, anyway. I still prefer my Light Gun."

"Just because it's old doesn't mean it's not capable. I'd know."

"I'm sure I can attest to that, too," a voice spoke from behind them.

Nathan and Hana turned around to see Ana, in a simple blue sweater and black pants, with her rifle slung over her shoulder. McCree was at her side, too, in a red western plaid shirt and jeans. The Cowboy had his belt on him, big iron on his hip. And for once, without a cigar in his mouth.

"Hi, Grandma!" Hana elatedly greeted, waving at her, oblivious to Nathan giving her a confused turn of his head.

"Hello, dear," Ana returned with a warm smile. "He's not giving you any trouble, is he?"

"Eh, not really. Kinda creepy, though."

"Says the person who snuck up on me at a gun range," he remarked, giving Hana a dirty look she couldn't see. "So, what're you doing here, ma'am? McCree?"

"Just came here to catch up with the Cap'," the Cowboy explained, placing a metal hand on her shoulder. "Show her I'm still a crackshot."

"Hmph, have fun with that."

The Courier went back to his booth, the old Mauser in tow. He touched the screen, adjusting the target so it would be back at the maximum distance. He loaded the rifle with five rounds, pushed the bolt forward, and aimed at the target. He could hear some chatter coming from the left side, voices belonging to the other three occupants of the range. He tried to not let them distract him too much in-between his rifle shots and trying to get a decent group.

* * *

A couple of hours later Nathan was back at his quarters, the Kar98k laid out over his desk, unloaded, and with the tool-kit he found with it opened and ready to be used. There was a problem, however, as he wasn't familiar with the weapon and couldn't really figure out how to fieldstrip the old thing. He slid the bolt out, at least, but that was as far as he got. The Courier slowly became more frustrated, irritated that he couldn't do something he's done with other guns thousands of times, before. Especially what wasn't his first bolt-action. It kept gnawing at his mind as someone then knocked on his door.

Grumbling, Nathan got up to answer, thinking it was going to be Dr. Ziegler or Winston. Instead, it was the young woman from the range earlier.

"Song?" he let out, wondering what she was doing at his door. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I just wanted to say thanks," she explained, avoiding eye-contact as if she was timid. Odd given how brash she was in their last few meetings. "For teaching me that stuff back at the range. And letting me shoot your gun. Didn't get a chance earlier so here I am now."

"Uh, you're welcome, kid. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm kinda busy."

"Doing what?"

Nathan stopped as he turned midway, deciding whether he should humor her and tell her what he was doing. He just wanted to be left alone in his room, but couldn't stop his mouth from moving for that moment, for some reason.

"Trying to fieldstrip and clean the old rifle. Problem is it didn't come with an instruction manual. So, I'm just a stick in the mud, now."

"Have you tried Googling it?"

The Waster snapped back to the Korean, his brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked, clearly confused by what she said.

"Y'know… 'Google it'?" she repeated, equally confused by his reaction.

"What does that number have to do with anything?"

"What? Ah, nevermind, I'll just show you."

Without warning, Hana barged in, Nathan turning to get out of her way as she walked to his desk with purpose. He wanted to speak out against the intrusion but was curious of what she was going to do. At his desk, moving the rifle to the side, the young woman activated a holoscreen and began to type onto the touch-keyboard. The screen then turned white, with a multicolored word that spelled "Google" and had a rectangular outline beneath it.

"What kind of gun is this?" she asked, pointing to the rifle.

"A Mauser Kar98k," he answered. "Why? You have a manual in a databank or something?"

She then began to type the words into the bar, making the holoscreen display a white page of words, many of them colored blue and with references to Mauser, Kar98k, fieldstrip, or all of them bunched together. Brin wasn't sure what he was looking at.

"What is this?" the Wastelander questioned, his eyes darting all over the screen.

"A search page," the Korean girl explained. "It shows links related to whatever you type into the bar at the top. Google's a search-engine meant to help people search through the Internet for whatever information they want to search."

"…Anything?"

"Yup. Videos, articles, books, games, pictures- Wait, your world doesn't have anything like this?"

This was a lot to take in for the Wastelander in just the span of a few seconds, as he's never heard of the Old World ever having anything like this. A vast amount of information literally at the tips of a person's fingertips. This had to be something only Overwatch, the once world-renowned international organization of scientific progress, had access to, right? Yet, the way she mentioned  _his_  world…

"No, it doesn't…" the Courier admits, still trying to figure out what he's looking at. "Now, what?"

"Press on any of the links and it should bring you to a web page," the Korean nonchalantly explained. "Careful where you go and search, though, the Internet can be a weird place. I'd know."

Nathan regarded the young woman with an astonished look, mildly impressed by the information she was giving. Doing as she said, he pressed his finger on one of the "links" and the screened change to now an article with images, detailed instructions written below them.

"I guess you know your way around this type of stuff, do you?" he said, finding some excitement with this newfound technology.

"Eh, kinda," she shrugged. "It's pretty common knowledge. Sorry for marching in like that, seeing old people struggle with technology annoys me."

Nathan restrained himself from saying anything about the "old" comment.

"Well, thanks anyway, kid," he graciously said, still a bit apprehensive. "You didn't have to go out of your way, though."

"Neither did you. Still, don't mention it."

She was about to walk out, stopping herself at the doorway before turning around to say something else.

"Oh. Ana said your rifle looks cool. I just felt like you should know that."

DVa left, waving goodbye. Nathan returned a simple wave before he went back to his desk. He looked at the holoscreen and back to the rifle and the bolt. He touched the screen, scrolling to an image that displayed a set of hands disassembling the bolt and immediately got to work. However, as he was working on the bolt and began to take it apart, he noticed something on the margins of the webpage. Unrelated to what was on the page, it was an advertisement that reminded him of those old movie posters from before the war. The style was vastly different but it had the same template: the title in bold font at the top, three of the actors in the center with a storm in a city behind them, and the names of the actors below their feet along with the rest of the production crew. One was a man, another an Omnic, and the third in the center was Hana. In a colorful blue and pink skinsuit under a scientist coat, holding some doohickey in her hand with a proud look on her face.

"The hell?"

* * *

Relay Bunker, Mojave Wasteland

2285

"We need to barricade the door now!" Veronica exclaimed, newfound panic in her voice.

"You sure it will work against fucking  _Power Armor?!_ " Parmley responded, trying to pry the old stove from the kitchen wall.

"It might slow them down! Hey, mask dude! Go help him!"

The man with the twisted hairs regarded her with a stern look before simply nodding and running to the Ranger's side, grabbing onto the other side of the stove, and helping to tear it from the wall and place it against the metal door. Veronica and Boone also contributed, grabbing anything that wasn't nailed to the ground and piling it against their only barrier against the Brotherhood Paladins. There soon was a mountain of junk and furniture between them and the Brotherhood.

"You think that will hold?" Parmley asked, breathing heavily from carrying all that stuff.

A loud bang at the door that made the pile of junk shake caused them to jump. It was followed by other, louder, and stronger bangs of metal against metal. Their barricade getting weaker with each tremor.

"Not for long," Veronica stated before running back to the relays, the others close behind. "Please tell me you guys have anything that could help against Power Armor!"

Hearing that, Boone immediately went to his pack and began to dig through it, trying to find the gifts Elder McNamara had given to them when they went to the Hidden Valley. His eyes soon landed on a group of metallic silver explosives they had.

"I got some Pulse Grenades in my pack!" Boone exclaimed, holding one in his hand. "Are these enough?"

"Eh… Those things are more for robots than Armor," the Scribe responded, frantically trying to work on the terminal at the same time. "But it could disable one or two of them! Get them ready!"

As the ex-Scribe was frantically trying to input the data from the black box into the Relay controls, Parmley, Boone, and the two dogs began to set up defenses for the inevitable. The Sniper had already passed around the few Pulse Grenades they had and was taking cover behind a console with Parmley, both their rifles at the ready. As much as the heavy-hitters that .308 rounds were, Power Armor was a whole different beast to contend with. At best, it'll annoy and disorient the occupants inside those shells of armor.

"Veronica, how are we on that relay?!" Boone yelled over to her.

"I'm getting close!" she replied, her face still plastered to the screen and fingers typing frantically. "I just need a minute!"

As that was happening, as their hearts began to beat faster and the sweat pouring out of their foreheads, the Ranger noticed something off as he looked around. They were short one man.

"Hey, where the hell is the weird gu-"

A sudden explosion down the hall had deafened the inside for a moment as a cloud of smoke and debris spilled forth from the doorway. The Ranger and the Sniper became silent, their grips tightening on their rifles. Rex and Cooper growled as they sat behind their cover. Veronica could not afford to be distracted. Then, the stomping of metal began to emanate from down the hall accompanied by a bright ray of light from a helmet. Finally, the hulking silhouette of a T-51b Power Unit appeared in the cloud of smoke, nearly taking up the hallway space.

A barrage of red laser fire from a Gatling Laser sprang from the figure and forced the NCR Sniper and Ranger to duck down. The burst soon died down, giving Boone enough time to throw a Pulse Grenade down the hallway with Parmley following suit. The hulking, imposing figure, tried run back behind cover but the grenades went off, the EMP clearly affecting the soldier and forcing him to take a knee. They let loose a barrage of their own, slinging high-velocity lead at the kneeling figure. The Paladin tried to shield himself with an armored arm, the rounds pinging violently off the metal but not penetrating. Eventually, he slinked back behind a corner, taking cover. Another Paladin replaced him as he peered from the corner and fired at the two, firing bursts from a Tri-Beam Laser. Soon, a Paladin armed with minigun occupied the hallway and let loose his own high-volume barrage.

"Wait for that bastard to reload!" Boone exclaimed, dipping lower and lower into cover as lead away chipped it.

Six grueling seconds later, the minigun finally went silent but not for long. Boone and Parmley sprang from cover, Boone taking aim at the minigun and firing, sending a .308 round at it. The weapon sparked and was knocked back, the Paladin rushing to try and remedy it and get the weapon operational again. A Pulse Grenade landed at his feet and forced the Brotherhood squad to disperse for a moment. However, a stray laser bolt hit the Sniper in the arm, sending him crashing to the floor in a cry of pain and clutching the scorched skin.

"Craig!" Parmley yelled, instantly kneeling to his comrade.

"I got it!" Veronica declared, running over to them, and already hoisting her friend over her shoulder. "Let's go, now!"

They hoisted their friend up, running to the relay that Veronica had set to send them to the coordinates she could input and encode. Bobbing and weaving through the energy discharge.

"They're trying to get away!" one of the Paladins yelled. "Move in!"

Two of their metal golems moved in, running through the hallway and trying to catch up to them. However, they stopped as they notice something roll to their feet from a doorway left in the hall.

"Shit! Grenades-!"

The explosives detonated, rocking the Paladins off their feet in a cloud of dust, disoriented. As they tried to get up, a figure looming in the doorway burst forth, with a golden staff and a gun. One of the Paladins that tried to rise was bashed to the ground and had his helmet swiftly knock off by the staff. His exposed head then took a burst of 12.7mm SMG fire and instantly ended his life. The other Paladin on the ground raised his laser rifle to the man but had it instantly knocked away and had the barrel of the SMG shoved into his visor. Before he could react and with one squeeze of the trigger, his helmet's black visor cracked and the man underneath went limp as blood spilled from it. However, the masked man barely had time to react as an enormous mass of metal charged into him and carried him through the hallway, then slamming him into a table where the relays were. With a metal gauntlet wrapped around his throat, he looked back to see the search party were all gone, disappearing to wherever the machines sent them. With a free hand, he tossed a grenade right where the relays were, the Paladin spotting it.

"No!" he screamed, letting go of the twisted haired man and running towards the grenade. But it was too late, as it exploded and caused the devices to spark and implode. The Paladin stepped back, shielding himself with his arm until he lowered it and saw what had happened. Balling was his metal fist, he stomped over to the man trying to get up and grabbed him by the shoulders before he slammed him against the wall, making him hover off his feet. He groaned in pain, recovering from the force of the shock before he looked the Paladin dead in the visor, his stoic visage returning.

"You are going to tell me everything!" the Brotherhood of Steel soldier demanded through his helmet's speakers. "Everything that your friends have planned!"

The Courier merely looked at the metal man holding him in a vise, his expression unchanging as he struggled little.

"I only know what I've seen," he stated, his voice still a calm tenor. "You can hide behind that shell of metal all you want, Paladin. It doesn't make you a better man."

The armored man growled as he threw Ulysses tumbling to the bunker floor, knocking his mask off. The Courier tried to get up until a metal boot kicked him in the stomach and cracked a few bones, making him curl into a ball. As the Paladin stood over him, the remaining squad members walked up to him.

"What now?" one of them asked, staring at the man on the ground.

"Might as well kill him," he said, pulling out a Laser Pistol. "We have everything we need here. We'll report to Hardin that they got away."

Before he could even pull the trigger, the rushing of feet and Armor made them turn around and see a group of Brotherhood of Steel and NCR Troopers fill into the bunker and aim their weapons at Hardin's contingent. The contingent returning the gesture.

"What the hell is this?!" one of them exclaimed.

"Paladins!" one of the Brotherhood members yelled at them. "By the order of Elder McNamara, I order you to surrender your weapons and power armor for violating the NCR-Brotherhood Treaty and The Codex!"

"That treaty  _is_  violating the Codex! We are fighting for Hardin in the pursuit of higher-technology, what we were born to do! If you refuse to support your fellow Brothers and Sisters, we will have to-"

A thunderous, shrill roar that echoed through the cave and bunker walls silenced him and the others. Everyone stopped, looking around and try to figure out the source of that sound. It wasn't long until the sound of gunfire and screaming emanated from outside the bunker and the cave itself, making some of the soldiers turn back and start to tremble with fear. One NCR trooper ran out promptly went back in after she saw what was happening.

"It's them!" she announced with a tremble in her tone.

"What?" one of the Paladins uttered.

"The Tunnelers," a deep voice spoke out from behind, making them turn around. It was Ulysses, getting to his feet with some blood dripping from his mouth.

"They've been shaken by the noise. The fighting, the gunfire, the explosions. It angered them. And led them to their prey."

He looked up, regarding everyone with a tired expression but still burning with a determined spirit. A spirit willing to fight to the end.

"Assemble, Brothers of Steel and Soldiers of the Bear. With your rifles and your lasers. Let us face the monsters burrowing from the ground. The residents of The Divide. What the  _Old World_ has left us. Left for the Mojave."


	21. Catching Up

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

Nathan did not have fond memories of the block he was in, memories that were not eased by the armed escort walking alongside him. However, for the sake of a friend he still chose to walk through the halls of the prison block once again. He wanted to check-in on Bastion, to see if the security team were treating the Omnic and his bird all right. Also, to see if he could get them out of that cage and give them some degree of freedom once again. Must have been a drastic change from being in a forest for most of its life to some dingy, concrete cell.

The guard leading him was Mirembe, the agent he met on the landing platform when he got back from Germany. Also, the one who took Bastion away in the first place. Nathan wasn't exactly happy in present company. Didn't stop her from speaking up, though.

"So, let me get this straight," she began, looking over her shoulder at him. " You're requesting that we hand over custody of the Bastion Unit over to you, temporarily at least. Am I correct, sir?"

"Yup," he confirmed, looking down at her. "Is there a problem?"

"Of course, there is. You are basically asking to babysit a  _Bastion Unit_  – a very dangerous robot designed for war – when there is no basis for the security team to entrust you with such a responsibility. What are you even planning to do with it?"

"Take him out for a walk. Show him around. Get his servos checked. Anything to get him out of that cell and not be cooped up like a rat. I'm not exactly comfortable putting Bastion through all of that."

"That's not your decision to make. And  _it's_  a machine, not a dog. Bringing it all over the base poses many security risks and I doubt the personnel will feel comfortable having it walk around. If it were up to me, you would only be able to visit it on a set schedule."

However, after that long-winded and emotionally charged rationale she gave against him, Mirembe let out a deep sigh as she continued leading him through the halls.

"Unfortunately, it's up to Security-Chief, Captain Amari, not me," she lamented, not eager to let the Omnic out.

"Amari?" Nathan questioned. "Do you mean Fareeha? When did that happen?"

"Not too long, ago. She knows how to run things around here. Not really surprising given her mother."

"Right…"

Finally, they had reached the cell where the Omnic was, along with his bird-friend. Through the glass door, they saw him sitting on the concrete cell floor, like a human. However, Nathan didn't expect to see the Omnic Monk in there as well, also sitting on the floor and facing the larger Omnic with his hands splayed to the side in that typical "monk pose". Bastion turned his head to their visitors and let out a few announcing beeps. Zenyatta followed, rising from the floor, and turning to greet them.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to see you both," the Monk said, sounding genuine. "How may we help you?"

"Hey, Zenyatta," the Waster greeted. "Just came to see how Bastion's holding up and if I can take him out of that cage, for the day. The bird, too."

"That sounds wonderful! What do you think, my friend?"

Bastion jumped up, letting out a series of joyous beeps as he bounced with apparent excitement. The bird seemed to share the same sentiment, flapping in circles around the small cell as it sang a song. Nathan would've felt the same if it wasn't for the fact that he saw Bastion had his right arm missing. With a heat building up the back of his neck, he turned to Mirembe.

"Where is his arm?" he demanded. "What happened to it?"

"We had to remove it and store it away, for safety precautions," she responded, maintaining a professional visage against his. "We removed the minigun and its cannon, as well."

"I hope that's all you've removed."

Before the Courier could go further, hovering over her, the guard's radio went off with the voice of the younger Amari through the speaker.

"Mirembe, it's Fareeha," she announced over the comms. "You wished to speak to me?"

"Yes, Captain," the guard responded, putting a finger up to her ear. "Brin is here at the prison block and is requesting that he… Takes  _care_  of the Bastion Unit. Watching over the Omnic for the day, at least."

There were a couple of moments of silence after that transmission. On Amari's end.

"Any reason for why he wants to do that?" she questioned.

"He wishes to…"

She glanced at the Nathan, who is patiently watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. Bastion and Zenyatta are watching through the glass, too.

"…To take the Omnic, and I quote, 'out of the cage'. He apparently doesn't want to leave his  _friend_  alone in the cell, ma'am."

"Is that so? What does he plan to do once it's out?"

"He wishes to take it for a walk, show it around, fix it up, like a pet. His words, ma'am."

"I see… Okay. You can let the Bastion go under his supervision."

"What?!"

That caused a reaction in the three watching her, seeing Nathan perk an eyebrow and Bastion tilt his head.

"You did disarm the unit, yes?" the Captain asked over the comms.

"Y-yes," the guard responded. "But Captain, is it wise to let  _him_ watch over the Omnic, taking it around the Watchpoint?"

"Nathan hasn't given me a significant reason to doubt him, yet. And there will be eyes all over if anything happens. Besides, we're stretched thin and I may need to assign you to another post."

"I-I see… Should we assign an escort, at least? In case the Omnic…"

"Brin's capable. I'd know. Anything else, Mirembe?"

"No, Captain. Thank you for your time."

She lowered her hand from her ear and turned to see the three, all staring at her in earnest. Nathan could see, from her annoyed expression, that things didn't pan out the way she wanted.

"So, does that mean Bastion can come out now?" he asked, not really attempting to hide his smirk.

"Yes," she merely said, motioning to another guard to open the cell door and let them out. "The Chief is putting a lot of trust into you, and I don't know why. You better not break that trust."

"I'm surprised she even let me get my way. And here I thought she didn't like me that much."

The glass cell door slid open, Bastion strolling out with the bird on his shoulder and Zenyatta just behind him. The Siege Automaton's mood seemed to gain a huge boost from simply walking out of the cell.

"Bee doo beep boo dee boop boo boo!" he said, elated that he wasn't confined to the concrete walls for now.

"You're welcome, Bastion," the man responded, looking over the Omnic's still mossy form. "Good thing severed limbs don't nearly affect robots as bad as people. They could've bothered cleaning you up, though. At least I know where we're going first."

"Bwee?"

"The workshop. See if I can give you a proper once-over. Come on."

The man took point, leading the Omnics and bird through the cell block and eventually out onto the rest of the Watchpoint. As they strolled through the base, Bastion looked around in wonder again, while Nathan noticed all the glances and stares they were receiving. He rolled his eyes and tried to not pay attention to the unwanted attention, keeping his eyes on the Pip-Boy to lead them to their destination.

* * *

Brigitte walked, with a toolbox in hand, into Watchpoint: Gibraltar's workshop - a spacious room filled with an assortment of tools and equipment serving an equally varied number of tasks to anyone in Overwatch skilled enough to use them. Whether the space was used to maintain agents' weapon and armor, build new gear, or be a testing ground for experimental equipment, it served the Watchpoint well and was rather frequented by the base's engineers and mechanics, her included. Though, the task she was returning from wasn't nearly as glamorous as she came back from a simple maintenance run trying to keep the place running without a hitch. Despite the Watchpoint being a state-of-the-art facility, it saw serious disuse and disrepair in the past few years. She was pretty good at her job, but it was demanding and monotonous most of the time.

Her day got a bit more interesting, however, as she walked in to find the towering Bastion Unit sitting in the middle of the room. Brigitte nearly dropped the toolbox but controlled herself when she spotted Nathan scraping some green stuff off the machine's armored hull. The man noticed her, looking up from his work.

"Howdy," he greeted, immediately going back to grabbing more moss and grass.

"Um… H-Hey," she greeted, too, but keeping a wary eye on the Omnic. "What are you doing?"

"Giving Bastion a once over and cleaning him up. He kinda needs it."

" _He?_ "

"Yeah, figured it would be tiring to constantly refer to him as 'it'. Plus, he kinda acts like a boy-robot to me."

"And what does he think of that?"

Nathan looks up again at Brigitte and looks to Bastion. Bastion looks back and forth between the two, before shrugging and giving a rather indifferent series of beeps.

"He doesn't mind. And you just learned to shrug. Good job."

"Bee doo beh!"

If Brigitte was being honest with herself, this was a very unusual exchange the mechanic was witnessing, seeing the usually brooding Wastelander talk so casually with a Bastion Omnic that technically should be extinct. An Omnic that also didn't speak a lick of English, yet Nathan could still understand it. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too much of a headache for her.

Electronic humming made Brigitte look to her left to see the former Shambali Omnic, Zenyatta, blissfully working on something at a table. Setting the tools down where she found them, she went over to the floating machine and peered over his shoulder to see him placing some colorful flowers in one of the empty cans lying around the workshop. Lying next to his project was a bird's nest, occupied by its yellow owner.

"And what are you doing?" she asked, examining the tiny bouquet.

"Giving these flowers a proper home," he stated, delicately arranging the plant life. "It would have been a waste to throw them away after they were removed from Bastion's body, otherwise. Of course, the bird's nest will stay, also."

Brigitte couldn't help but smile at the kind gesture the monk showed. She walked to the other side, closer to where the bird was in its nest. Carefully and gently, she stuck her right index finger out, offering it as a perch for the bird. It looks at her curiously, turning its head to the side like a confused puppy. Letting out a small chirp beforehand, it quickly hops up and plants its twiggy feet on her finger. She raised her hand to eye-level, observing the friendly little bird with a smile still on her face.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" she said, gently rubbing a finger across its feathered head. "Does it have a name?"

"Not yet," Nathan answered, looking at his Pip-Boy as he searched for the right tool. "If you have one, feel free to say it. Can't think of anything to call the critter."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out soo-"

"Just what in the hell is going on here?!"

The bird flew away from Brigitte, startled, and both Nathan and Bastion rocketed up to their feet. The bird then landing on its metal friend.

At the entrance of the workshop was Overwatch's premier engineer, Torbjörn, with a look of obvious displeasure on his face. Brigitte's eye widened as she realized what could've caused that interruption, looking back and forth between Zenyatta and Bastion. Nathan walked forward, an irritated scowl on his face.

"What's the problem?" he questioned, his eyes narrowed at the Swedish dwarf.

"What are  _they_  doing here? Or more importantly, what is  _that_ doing here?!" Torbjörn demanded, pointing a finger at Bastion.

"Bastion? I brought him here to clean him up and give him some much-needed maintenance. Is that a problem?"

"Is that a problem? Is that a 'problem'?! You do realize that  _thing_  has killed countless amounts of people in the past and shouldn't be outside of its cage! Who authorized this?!"

Nathan's lip parted and started to bare his teeth, a low growl emanating from the back of his throat. The mechanic next to him was warily eyeing his mannerisms.

"Amari, the Security-Chief, did. If there's a problem, you should take it up with her. Bastion hasn't done jackshit to you or anyone on this base! You don't see a pile of bodies behind him, do you?"

"Why are you even doing this?"

"I owe him for saving me back at Germany."

Torbjörn looked as if he was caught aghast by that statement, a look of disbelief before it quickly got replaced by a very angry expression.

"Germany?! That's the same country his kind ravaged and killed their way through! You're a fool to trust it after seeing everything they did when you were still stuck in  _Eichenwalde_! Urgh- I might as well whack both of you in the head with my hammer to knock some sense into you."

"Try that and I'm going to choke you with your own mechanical claw you little shi-!"

"STOP IT! ENOUGH! THE BOTH OF YOU!"

Brigitte ran in between them, yelling at the Engineer and the Courier to stop their bickering. She was clearly distressed but maintained a firm and calm attitude as she glared at them both. She addressed the shorter man first.

" _Pappa_ ," the Mechanic started, earnestly but sympathetically. "I know you have a terrible past with Omnics and with what they did in the past, but look at Bastion! He's practically like a child! And Nathan's only doing what he thinks is best."

They all turned back to look at Bastion, his one hand hugging tightly to his chest and acting anxious as its head swiveled around the room nervously. Its friend also showing signs of distress, jittering across his shoulders. The Swede only crossed his arms and huffed, his face still rigid.

"Children usually aren't armor-plated and have built-in automatic weapons," Torbjörn fired back, sternly regarding her daughter.

"And engineers don't usually shy away from a problem and wait for it to disappear," Nathan piped back in, looking the Swedish Engineer dead in the eye. "They try to fix it. Improve it. Surroundings themselves with the best tools they have at hand. Can't think of a better place for a robot like Bastion to be than a workshop. Don't you agree?"

Torbjörn's face hardened but thought flashed across it. As much as he hated those Omnics being there, he couldn't deny that logic.

"Fine," the dwarf relented. "You can work on your little pet project. Just don't expect me to share the same space with you."

With that, he turned around and left, leaving the four alone in the workshop.

Brigitte sighed deeply after he had left, rubbing her hands over her face. She didn't think she would have to play mediator when she woke up that day. Fixing up people wasn't nearly as easy for her as fixing up Rein's armor. And it wasn't a guarantee either. Her eyes opened as Nathan walked past her and back to Bastion, who let out a few worried tones. The man reassured the machine before he went back to his tools and started going to work.

Brigitte's face twisted before she walked over to Nathan and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, er- Look," she started, her tone again sympathetic. "I'm sorry for what happened back there-"

"It's not your fault," Nathan stated, cutting her off as he focused on the task at hand.

"I know, it's just… It's been a long day for my  _pappa_ and everyone's been a bit more on edge than usual. He's not always like that. He's a great guy when you warm up to him."

"If I wasn't made of metal, that is. So, he has a history with Omnics, too? Must've been bad for him to act like that."

"It kind of is. He actually created some of them."

Nathan abruptly stopped, setting his tool down and slowly getting up. He turned to Brigitte, a look of disbelief on his face.

"No shit?" he let out, genuinely caught off guard.

"Yeah…" was all Torbjörn's daughter said, looking down as her hand worryingly rubbed her other arm. "It's not exactly a secret."

"Old wounds like those are not easy to shed," Zenyatta spoke up, gliding up to the woman's side with the "flower pot" in hand. "The sorrows he has felt… One can only imagine. But I hoped they haven't been too much of a burden for the Engineer."

The room reigned in silence, none of them have the inclination to speak out. Nathan especially, learning that the man he was going to suffocate just minutes earlier created the very thing that tried to kill off humanity.

It was then that Nathan just wanted to finish what he was doing.

* * *

Hours passed, and Brin had been summoned to Winston's office for a briefing on an upcoming mission. As always, it was at an inopportune time, as he was still in the middle of fixing/cleaning up Bastion. So, rather than taking Bastion back to the cell and leaving him there, the Courier decided to prolong their little escapade for a few minutes more and brought him along to the briefing.

Winston and the others he called-in for the briefing were surprised to see the hulking Omnic following less-hulking Nathan into the office. Fareeha, Ana, Jack, and even Angela were present for the meeting and must've been waiting for him to arrive. They all regarded the Omnic with surprised and wary looks, who naively returned a simple hello with his hand.

"Beedo beedo!"

"Just don't mind him," Nathan reassured them, walking up to the desk and ending up beside Dr. Ziegler. "Shall we move on?"

Winston fumbled a bit before going back to his computer and organizing some things.

"Er- yes," he said, as he typed on his keyboard and began to bring multiple holoimages.

"Thanks to Fareeha's friends at Helix, they were finally able to gain some information from the data files we had given to them. However, due to Helix's jurisdictions and restrictions, as well as the means of which they  _obtained_  the information, they are unable to go where they suspect Hakim is. So, it looks like we'll be handling this for them. Fareeha, if you'll please."

With a nod, she stepped forward and faced the group assembled as a large holoimage of a city in an arid climate formed above her. The buildings had very interesting and advanced-looking architecture. Some of them were quite imposing in their size, too.

"The data my men retrieved had led us to believe that Hakim maybe hiding out in the city of Oasis, in Iraq," she explained, regarding the group with the professionalism of a soldier. "As  _some_  of you may know, Oasis is a city of great technological and scientific advancement, so why Hakim is supposedly here raises some questions. He may possibly have gotten here with the assistance of Talon. To what extent, we don't know. Thankfully, by a stroke of luck, we have an opening."

She then gestured to Dr. Ziegler.

"Angela has been invited by the Ministries of Oasis for to be honored for her work in the field of medicine and for what she has been doing recently in the Middle-East, even though she is now 'unofficially' working for Overwatch. So, the plan will be that Angela will travel to Oasis under the guise of visiting but to collect intel on where Hakim is."

"What about the rest of us?" Morrison spoke up, his expression unchanging because of the mask. "What do we do?"

"You'll sneak in through customs and stay at the same hotel Angela will be. Scouting the city and trying to find any information you can about Hakim's whereabouts will be the priority. Oasis's surveillance systems are advanced, but it shouldn't too much of a problem for you two."

"And when do find him, what then?"

"We seize him as inconspicuously as we can and hand him over to my men back at Giza. They'll take over the rest, and while Helix's head will be spinning from the questionable affair, they'll be more than happy to have Hakim in custody."

She then turned her head to the Medic and Courier, catching their attention.

"As for you two," she spoke, observing them both. "Since Angela was invited to be the guest of honor, it seemed reasonable to have her escorted by personal security. For obvious safety concerns, Nathan must be assigned to you as a bodyguard."

"Again?" he asked, perking an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Notoriety. While the entire world is looking for Soldier: 76 and the Shrike, your face hasn't been revealed to the world. Only your helmet. So, you're going to go undercover again, like in London."

"I see. Same deal with my gear, too? Keep 'em stored until needed?"

"Of course, but, you may need to pack lighter."

Nathan held his breath as he heard that. Didn't like the sound of that.

"What?" he seriously asked.

"As I said, Oasis has very advanced surveillance and security systems. While Jack and… My  _mother_  will be sneaking in through less than legitimate means, you and Angela must go through customs. We have ways of sneaking in what you need, but it is limited."

"How so?"

"A sidearm and some armor should be able to get through. Anything as large as a rifle will be a no-go. Angela will be able to bring in all of her equipment because of the event, so you won't be completely without help."

"I'm still more naked than I'd prefer to be…"

As the implication and the worry of worst-case scenarios instantly being raised in his brain, he felt a hand grace his arm, and look down to see Dr. Ziegler giving her a reassuring expression.

"Don't worry, Nathan," she said with a warm smile. "I'll take good care of you."

"Won't be the first time," he admitted. "But… Thanks. I think I'm supposed to be your bodyguard, though…"

"So," Fareeha said, bringing all eyes back on her. "With that all said, is there any questions? No? Dismissed."

The agents began to file after having their fill from the briefing. Nathan and Bastion who were the last ones out from the lab and he began to escort the machine back to the cell. Begrudgingly, of course.

"So, what do you think?" Nathan asked the machine, looking up at him as they walked side-by-side.

"Boo doo?" Bastion asked.

"Of today, so far. How's it feel being out of the cage and walking around and seeing the sights?"

"… Wee doo boo che boo woo woo?"

"Amari? The younger one? What about her?"

"What about me?"

The sound of boots walked up to Nathan's side, looking to his right to see a glimmer of a gold flash across his face.

"Amari," Nathan greeted, not expecting the Egyptian to walk up to them "Bastion was just talking about you. Care to finish what you were saying, Bas?"

The Omnic's head snapped to either side, fidgeting and blubbering. A series of blathering doops and boops came out in a hushed tone. He faced forward again, trying to avoid eye-contact. Who knew robots could get embarrassed?

"It's fine," she said, holding up a hand. "I just wanted to check-in, see how you were doing with the Omnic. I did authorize your permission to babysit it, after all."

"Thanks for that, by the way," he expressed. "Didn't think you'd do it, though."

"You haven't given me much of reason to deny you. Besides, Lena and Reinhardt spoke highly of you after King's Row."

"…Did they now?"

"You're making a name for yourself here, believe it or not. Just don't let it go to your head."

"I'd prefer not to."

The Security-Chief and the Waster eventually escorted the Bastion back to the cell block, before turning in for the day.

* * *

Unknown Facility, somewhere near State Route 127, California Wasteland

2285

There was a big flash when they escaped through the relay, but then there was blackness. However, Veronica's eyes fluttered ever so slightly, trying to stir herself awake as faint light reached her eyes. In her disoriented state, she thought she could hear a series of worried whimpers and the faint sensation of something sniffing here. It wasn't enough to wake her, but the flurry of sloppy, gross licks that followed was more than enough to get her up.

"Uh- Er- Hmm?" she groaned, almost immediately scrambling and trying to push away the hunk of metal and fur. "Urgh- Rex? S-stop! I'm up! I'm up!"

Veronica sat up, immediately wiping the slobber off with her Followers coat and rubbing the dreariness from her eyes. She looked around, noticing it was night, but had bright lights of blue nearly blinding her. Rubbing her eyes again, she sees the lying form of Boone next to her, almost unconscious and with a scorched shoulder to boot. The sound of someone dry-heaving made her spin around, to see Parmley hunched over a railing and sending his Pork N' Beans over the balcony.

"Ugh, you were right…" the Ranger lament, wiping a bandana over his mouth. "There was going to be some vomit…"

However, Veronica's mouth was agape as she slowly got back up and went to the railing, paying little mind to the retching man next to her. Instead, she looked out from the platform they were on and her eyes scanned the land surrounding them. A collection of Old World facilities around them, still glowing bright and churning smoke from their concrete and metal shells. She even noticed a blue energy field emitting from the balcony's ceiling. Looking down, she could they were atop a huge white dome, a large research facility in of itself.

"Woah," was all the astounded ex-Brotherhood Scribe could say.

Pained groans and whimpers made the two turn around and see Boone trying to get up as the dogs worriedly pace around him. The burn on his shoulder made his face contort in pain as his hand clutched it, and further contort into more pain as it was still sensitive to the touch. Veronica went over to him and helped him up to his feet.

"Let's find an entrance to this facility," she said, picking up his rifle for him. "There's gotta be something here to help him."

Parmley nodded, wiped his mouth, and gathered the rest of their gear. The group rounded the rest of the balcony until finding the one door that led to the inside of the facility. However, before Veronica could get her hands on it to open, Parmley stopped her.

"We don't know what's inside," he said, bringing his rifle up and checking to see if a round was chambered. "Let me take point first, then I'll let you know if it's okay to follow."

The Scribe nodded graciously to the Ranger, before setting Boone down on one of the benches on the balcony. With his rifle leveled forward, Parmley operated the door and made it mechanically open, revealing the interior. He slowly walked into a metal room, sweeping, and checking the corners with the muzzle of his rifle. In the room he was in there was a massive circular computer in the center, along with what looked like a pod and garbage disposal mounted to the wall. They were open doorways that lead to other rooms, and after checking them, he found they were all alone in this metal room. He called out to the others.

"Come on in! It's all clear," he reassured as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

The dogs walked in and watched as Veronica helped Boone, now walking on his own, but still stayed by her side. He soon walked over to the huge computer in the middle of the room and sat down on the screen with more help from Veronica. After that, she stood up and looked around the interior, even more impressed and awestruck by the technology she saw. Without a doubt, the Brotherhood would've had a similar reaction if they had gotten through.

"Huh, so is this where Nathan goes to on those long 'vacations'?" Veronica questioned, gawking at all the cool tech. "It's pretty cozy. Not a bad place all."

"Cheers, sir. I am delighted that sir possesses such positive judgments regarding this domicile."

They all jumped at that noise, Boone physically getting up and looking around, trying to find the source of that voice.

"What the?!" Parmley exclaimed, pulling out his rifle again. "I thought this place was clear?!"

"While sir has made a valiant and thorough endeavor of investigating this domicile, I regret to inform sir that said domicile is inhabited by a collection of personality matrices. I hope this does not disrupt the sirs and hounds excessively."

After a few moments of trying to figure out where that sound came from, their eyes eventually landed on the huge central computer in front of them as that was the closest they heard the voice come from.

"Are you…?" Veronica asked, her eyebrow furrowed.

"Salutations and felicitations, sirs and hounds, and a most jocund welcome to the Sink," the computer greeted, in a very posh foreign accent. "I am the electronic valet and household central processor. May I be of service, sirs and hounds?"

"First, who're you calling a 'sir'? Second, where are we?"

"Primarily, sir, it is with a great lugubriousness that I must disclose that my programmers installed only the masculine honorific, sir. As for the location that sirs and hounds have chanced upon is the 'Big Mountain Research and Development Center'. Regarding the building, this geodesic dome has been classified as 'The Think Tank' and is the command center of the research facility. As for this accommodation, it has been imaginatively called 'The Sink'. I hope this passage of information is of an adequate quality, sirs?"

"So, we're in Big Mountain? The place with advanced tech?"

"Irrefutably. Now, how may I be of service, sir?"

Another pained groan made Veronica turn back to see Boone struggling with his shoulder, again, Parmley removing the pieces of burnt cloth from his uniform to reveal charred skin.

"Well, first, we need to get my friend some medical help," she lamented, not sure if she packed the right supplies for such for laser burns.

"I'm sure I can patch him up real quick," called out an aged and western voice coming from some kind of metal pod with the faded markings of a Caduceus staff on it. "Pop him in and he'll be fixed in a jiffy. Oh, I'm the Sink's Auto-Doc by the way."

Veronica and Parmley exchanged glances, unsure that they wanted to put their friend in what looked more like a metal coffin. The Sniper stood up, however, and began walking towards the machine.

"If Nathan's been here and used this thing before," he said, gritting his teeth through the pain. "I ain't got a whole lot to worry about, then."

"That's the spirit! Now climb on in, son. Let the good doctor take a look you. Hmm… Yup, that looks like a laser burn. Ain't the worst thing I've dealt with so you'll be just fine."

The Sniper climbed into the automated physician, the metal door sealing him off, and it wasn't long until they heard the machine begin to work on healing their friend. Hopefully.

Not wanting to get sidetracked even further, Veronica turned to the Central Unit to start getting answers.

"Okay, we're here because we're trying to find our friend, Nathan," she explained, eager to get some answers. "Do you know him?"

"'Course we know him!" responded, not the C.I.U., but a tiny little Securitron at her feet, barely at knee-level and with a cartoon coffee mug as a face. "He practically lives here! Eh, sometimes. Name's Muggy, by the way."

"Uhm… Hi, Muggy…"

And here she thought the motley group of weirdos the Courier rounded up back at the Mojave was a colorful cast of characters. The sooner they went down this rate, they might as well meet a talking toaster. At least the little guy was kinda cute.

"Is there anyone here that could help us?" she asked, earnestly. "Give us any advanced technology that can lead us to our friend?"

"Sure is!" the little robot enthusiastically answered, as he pointed to a door with blue glowing lights in the other room. "If you go through that door and down the hall, you'll find this band of crazy floating brains in jars that call themselves scientists and they should be able to help ya'. You just have to say you know Nathan and it'll be easy peasy!"

"Really? Just like that? Well, that's pretty straightforward."

"Yup, and might I say, you guys sure are friendlier than that last group that came through here."

Veronica's sense of relief disappeared as fast her eyes opened, and she swiftly crouched down to the little Securitron.

"What?" she questioned in a serious tone. "Another group?"

"Yup," Muggy confirmed, still sounding jovial. "Through the same door you guys came through, this group of weird looking robots walked in and started looking around the place. I was excited at first, happy to see we had new people over!"

Muggy's ecstatic tone then turned darker and more vehement as he spoke.

"Then I learned they were a group of ASSHOLES, and one of them punted me like a football! I mean- I was only gonna ask if they had any cups that need cleaning, but noooooooo! Apparently, that isn't enough for some robots! Like, it's not my fault that I just wanna polish some cups and plates! It's in my nature! And I hate it! God-fucking-damn it Dr. O you monkey-molesting shitlicking lobotomizing egghe-"

"Woah! WOAH!" Veronica exclaimed, concerned by the amount of hate and rage generated by something so deceptively small and cute. "Calm down! Let's get back on topic… Where did these robots go?"

"Don't know. They did knock me out for a while," Muggy admitted, somehow sounding automatically calmer than he did a few seconds ago. "But they did probably go in there; Where the crazy kooks are. Would suck if they ended killing anyone in there. Except Dr. O, of course. Fuck him."

Veronica stood up and looked at the door, contemplating whether to go in there. They had already gone this far, and if those robots kill what could possibly be their only way of finding Nathan, she had to do something fast. She looked back at the Ranger, who was doing an inventory check.

"Parmley, stay here and make sure Boone's okay," she ordered, grabbing her Power Fist. "I'm going to check if those scientists are okay."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, not liking the idea of her being left alone. "At least take some of these. And holler if you need help."

He handed her a couple Pulse Grenade, which could be useful if she was going to deal with unknown robots. She then whistled to Rex, whose ears perked before he went to her side and walk with her to the door.

Veronica stopped, reading the painted letters that read 'Think Tank' before reaching forward and pressing what she assumed was the doors controls. It opened, revealing a metal hallway leading into a large room. Walking through it, lightly and to not make a noise, she eventually reached the doorway. Looking around and saw that it was a large laboratory, the ground floor littered with equipment and large computers. There was a second level with stairs leading to it, a series of doors that lead to rooms behind metal doors. There wasn't anyone, and she certainly didn't spot any of the "floating brain jars" that little Securitron mentioned earlier. She slowly crept in, wary at the amount of noise she was making. Then, one of the doors hissed open. Spotting a pylon rising from the hexagonal flooring, she ran to it and took cover, her back pressed up against the wires and metal with Rex next to her, creeping low to the ground. They listened to the hydraulic door close and it wasn't long until they heard footsteps that sounded like metal clanking against metal, accompanied by mechanical whirring. Curiosity getting the better of the Scribe, she slowly peers from the corner to look and sees the robot Muggy was referring to. Her eyes widened in awe and shock at what she saw.

What she saw had to be one of the most humanoid-like robots she had ever seen. Well, not quite, but had some humanoid traits. It was clearly bipedal but walked normally and fluidly on two legs. It also had two arms, which it was using to carry a weapon she was not familiar with. However, the limbs were thin and segmented with circular pivots. The torso, or chassis, in this case, had a white hull but show some of it gray machine core, showing jagged edges and protruding parts. Finally, the head was just a prism, two red-colored glowing lines on the side that curved up to a little "ear" tip, and a single red light for an eye.

'Whatever that thing is, it has to be responsible for why nobody else is here…'

Growling caught her attention, and she was about to tell Rex to be quiet until she noticed he was facing the other side, and directly at another one of those robots that she failed to see walk behind them.

Rex was a quick dog, fortunately, and immediately jumped and lunged at the robot, knocking it to the ground as it fired into the air. Before wrapping his jaws around the neck and shaking it violently with his cyber-dog strength. Veronica looked back around the corner and saw the other robot was approaching her spot, weapon drawn. She ducked, waited a few seconds, and began to shuffle around the pylon in the other direction, hoping to take the robot by surprise as she eventually rounds the corner. As she had already cleared half the pylon and was ready to surprise the machine with a pneumatic gauntlet to the head, a noise made her head snap to the left and spot another robot on the railing. She ducked behind the cover of a nearby console, bullets peppering her position. The woman heard another bark and saw Rex barreling towards a set of stairs that led him up to the robot. It saw and tried to fire at the dog, but knocked down to the ground. Rex didn't immediately latch onto its neck like the first one, but it didn't stop him from trying.

Unfortunately, Veronica had her own problems to worry about and saw that the robot she tried to ambush now approached her with its weapon at the ready. Swiftly, she ducked gunfire and delivered uppercut to the machine, sending it flying to its back. It had a crack on its chassis, but before Veronica could finish it off, it rolled out of the way of her fist and got up as fast as it fell. Then, it delivered a metal fist of its own to her face. She stumbled, hitting the pylon with her back, before two metal hand wrapped around her throat and forced her feet off the ground. As she choked, the red eye of the machine got closer to her, as if it wanted to examine her pain. She snarled as she kicked it in the torso with her two legs and sent it stumbling back, before delivering a right hook to its head. It spun around, still on its feet, and looked back seething with a cracked eye. However, its head exploded as a rifle went off and fell limp to the black floor, revealing Parmley and his rifle to be there. Gunfire rang out from the other side of the room as a fourth robot fired as it ran down a set of stairs, but the Ranger swiftly fired back and sent it crumbling to the floor from a well-placed burst from his rifle. After a few moments of silence, everything was over.

"I told you to holler if you need help," the Ranger iterated, walking up to her. "Shouldn't have brought a fist to a gunfight. You alright?"

"Never better," quipped the woman as she rubbed her neck.

After recuperating, she walked to the center of the room, Parmley with her. They met up with Rex, carrying the severed head of one of the robots before dropping it to the ground with a wagging tail. Veronica bent down to pet him for a job well done.

"Well, no one else seems to be here," Veronica lamented, standing back up. "Where could they have gone?"

Before Parmley could respond, a huge screen from behind them came to life and made them turn around to see what was being transmitted. On it was one of the "floating jars": a brain encased in glass and goo with a series of limbs that had monitors displaying the images of an eye and a mouth, while the other eye was just a cracked black screen. The lab's speakers went off with a raucous.

"Hello, it is I! MOOOOOBBBIUSS!" he declared, making the group want to cover their ears. "And I am here to-"

"WILL YOU PLEASE STOP THAT INCESSANT YAMMERING?!" spoke another brain that floated into view, one that had all its monitors functional, one eye being smaller than the other, and wasn't nearly as grimy as the other one. Unfortunately, he was louder. "I SWEAR TO GEIGER IF IT ISN'T YOUR DEBILITATING ADDICTION TO MENTATS AND PSYCHO IT'S YOUR UNNECESSARY USE OF THEATRICS IN THESE TRANSMISSIONS!"

"Oh? Says the man who has his voice module's speakers set to the highest possible setting? And there's nothing wrong with Mentats."

"I TOLD YOU, THE STATUS OF MY VOLUME KNOB IS BECAUSE OF INTERFERENCE WITH MY COLLEAGUES!"

"Oh, yes. Blame the problem of your knob on others, not accepting the problem to be yourself. I've expected butter of you, Klein. Especially since I graciously let you into my Forbidden Zone."

"DON'T YOU-"

"HEY!"

Veronica screamed, getting both scientists to shut up. The woman in the white coat had just about had it and wasn't going to let a bunch of bickering geezers in brain jars make it worse for her. From being chased by her own ex-family while carrying a wounded friend, meeting a group of characters straight from an old Pre-War comic book, and being almost choked to death by a mysterious robot, she just had enough. Enough of this bullshit.

"As much as I'd like to listen to you argue, we're kinda on a schedule!" she exclaimed, her arms gesturing her frustration. "So, the sooner you help us and find our friend, Nathan, the better!"

"Nathan? Friend?" Mobius questioned, his visors getting closer. "Do you mean… Oh, you must be Veronica! You are exactly like what Nathan describes. Hello, I am Dr. Mobius."

"AND I," the other one started, prompting them to lift their heads to use as muffs. "AM DR. KLEIN! CHIEF HEAD RESEARCHER OF BIG MOUNTAIN AND-"

"Yeah, that's nice to hear," Veronica interrupted on the behalf of everyone. "I'm Veronica. This is Parmley and that is Rex. We have two others with us: a guy named Boone and a dog named Cooper. Now, since we share a mutual friend. Is there any way you can help us?"

The two scientists regarded each other, before turning back to the screen.

"Well, as much as I'd like to help friends of a friend," Mobius said. "We are, unfortunately, in a predicament of our own. Tell me, have you encountered strange, bipenal robots on your way here?"

"Yes, we did. They attacked us."

"AS THEY DID TO US," Klein spoke up, taking center stage. "AT FIRST, WE DETECTED A TELEPORT TO THE SINK AND WHEN IT GAVE THE SAME ENERGY SIGNATURE AS NATHAN'S TRANSPORTALPONDER, WE THOUGHT NOTHING OF IT. HOWEVER, INSTEAD OF OUR LOBOTOMI- ERGH, FRIEND - WALKING THROUGH THOSE DOORS, IT WAS THE METAL ABOMINATIONS WIELDING GUNS. THEIR PROCESSORS THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO TAKE US PRISONER AND MARCHED US OUT OF THE THINK TANK AND INTO THE OUTSIDE WORLD. HOWEVER, THROUGH A COMBINATION OF THE POSSESSION OF HIGHER INTELLIGENCE AND CUNNING, I WAS ABLE TO ESCAPE THEIR METAL GENITAL HANDS."

"W-what?... Actually… Nevermind… Do you know why? Where they came from?"

"I'M AFRAID NEITHER OF US POSSESS SUFFICIENT EMPIRICAL EVIDENCE TO ANSWER EITHER OF THOSE INQUIRIES. A PITY, REALLY. BUT ONE THING IS FOR CERTAIN: MY NOT AS CUNNING COLLEAGUES NEED HELP, AND YOU SHOULD BE THE ONES TO PROVIDE IT. AS WE ARE BOTH INCAPABLE OF AIDING THEM OURSELVES."

Veronica and Parmley exchanged looks, both with a cautious heed.

"What do you mean 'incapable'?" Parmley asked, shaking his head. "You can't do anything?"

"We have bodies of science, not war," Mobius explained. "While our metal shells have been meticulously crafted for the porpoise of science, your fleshy bag bodies have been perfected for survival in the outside world. Everything from your eyes to your genitals."

"That's… Okay."

"Anyways, my scanners show their signals coming from the X-2 Transmitter Antennae Array south of you," Mobius went on. "Why they are there is a curiosity, as that array had been disabled ever since the X-2 antennae was ripped off some time ago. Nonetheless, they are being held hostage there."

"AND IF INTRINISTIC FEELINGS OF KINDNESS AND POLITENESS ARE NOT ENOUGH TO MOTIVATE YOU, THE PRESENCE OF THE ENTIRE THINK TANK MAY BE THE ONLY THING TO HELP YOU FIND YOUR FRIEND. SO, GO! GO WITH HASTE ON YOUR MOBILE PENIS-TIPPED FEET AND RETRIEVE MY NOT AS CUNNING AND NOT AS INTELLIGENT COLLEAGUES, FOR THEY ARE STILL MARGINALLY USEFUL!"

"Uh… What he said. Good luck! Uhm. Goodbye."

The screen finally blinked off, leaving the three alone in a hauntingly silent room. After getting so far and seeming so close, they still had some ways to go before they could find a way to reach Nathan and finally figure out what happened to him. As they stood there, dumbfounded and ears ringing, one thing was for certain.

"This is fucking weird."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the dialogue for the Think Tank and the C.I.U. is more difficult than writing for Ulysses. Ain't that some shit?


	22. Testaments of Science

Oasis, Iraq

2076

A giant white riverboat with graceful curves and flourish colors drifted across an oasis in the desert, carrying its occupants through what was considered a jewel in the desert. A city of scientific marvels and wonders. There were a lot of pretty sights and attractions that caught the eyes of tourists standing on the boat's deck, from the advanced, clean architecture laced with old décor to the beautiful vistas not usually possible in a desert. A man leaning on the boat's railing – dressed in a dark, short-sleeve dress shirt, beige khakis, and a pair of aviators – found himself overlooking parts of the city as they flew past. Moving slowly on the horizon or zipping by from up-close. He stared more at the large tower in the middle of the city, going far up to the sky and taller than anything he's ever seen. Yet, it didn't even look finished as there were exposed beams at the top with construction equipment all over. Blowing cigarette smoke in its general direction to watch it rise into the clouds. A woman came beside him to lean against the rail on his side. She's blonde, is wearing an orange dress shirt under a white shirt coat, and faded jeans. She has the same shemagh around her neck as she did back in Egypt.

"Smoking on the job?" Angela said to him, humorously but with a slightly disapproving look on her face. "You know that's not healthy for you."

"I've ingested worse," Nathan remarked, tapping on the stick to get some ash off. He accidentally spills some onto his Pip-Boy's screen and tries to shake it off with an annoyed expression. Afterwards, he turns his gauntlet to address the cartoon face on the screen. "You sure it's a good idea to have this thing out? It's pretty unique."

"Bodyguards and paid mercenaries have all types of gear and equipment with them, nowadays. It's bordering on impractical, really. It shouldn't stand out too much, but it certainly is bulkier than most… So, what do you think of Oasis?"

"Hmm… A city assembled by some of the greatest minds in the world, meant to be a haven of scientific progress with no ceiling and no restriction? Not too excited."

"How come?"

"Past experiences. The 'no restrictions' policy sounds nice on paper but isn't all that nice in practice. Remember those 'anomalies' you found over my body?"

"Yes. Were those-?"

"Some of them were. Don't be surprised if I get a bit antsy if any of these scientists are examining me a bit too closely."

The Doctor would've scoffed at the obscenity of such a statement if there wasn't evidence to the contrary standing and smoking right next to her. That, lumped in with some her own past experiences, too. Nonetheless, she still had to give credit where it was due for Oasis as it was still a scientific miracle in this world, despite present company's opinions on such things.

"But that's a story for another day," Nathan told, standing up from the rail to pick up his duffle bag and some of her luggage. "Looks like we're here."

Angela turned around to see their ship was docking at a terminal and it was time to depart. Grabbing her bag, she slung it over her shoulders and stepped off the ferry and into the terminal, her bodyguard in tow. As he keenly looked around, finding some familiarities with this terminal. It wasn't long when they finally outside, immediately being greeted by a well-kept, humble garden housed in archaic yet modern so Arabic architecture. As Angela gawked at the beautiful scenery, Nathan scouted around and noticed a man walking up to them. He was a dark-skinned, middle-aged man with graying hair, wore eyeglasses, and a suit under a white coat. Nathan nudged Dr. Ziegler, before gesturing to the approaching man. Her face lit up into a friendly demeanor, as did his.

"Doctor Angela Ziegler," the older man greeted in an accent, grabbing her hand, and shaking it graciously with a bow. "Welcome to Oasis! It is an absolute honor to have you here in our wonderful city!"

"Thank you, Doctor Hassoun," Ziegler acknowledged as she kindly returned the gesture with a bow, as well. "And it is an honor to be invited!"

"Please, call me Ibrahim."

He let go of her hand and then addressed the tall man next to her, extending his hand to him.

"And you are…?"

"James Boone," the bodyguard iterated, taking the scientists hand in his and giving it a firm shake. "I've been assigned to be Doctor Ziegler's security-detail. I hope this isn't too much of a problem."

"Oh, no, of course not," the Scientist said, shaking his head. "Someone like Doctor Ziegler certainly cannot afford to not be too careful, especially these days! Fortunately, you'll find you won't work very hard in this city; We are one of the safest places in the world!"

"So, I've heard. I'll be counting on it."

"Of course! Now, if you two would please follow me."

The Founding Member of Oasis, well, just one of them, began to lead the two through the gardens, practically guiding them on a tour and showing off one of the many testaments to the city. Gardens like these are a rarity in deserts, at least for "James" it was. Bright and colorful flowers surrounded by green and well-trimmed bushes were only a dream for Pre-War Suburbanites. The heat was also something different. In Giza, the heat felt like he was walking through Arroyo on a mild day, but this place felt much more temperate even with the Sun blistering above them.

"Now I can see why you wished to meet us here instead of the airport terminal," Angela stated, looking around in awe. "This place is lovely!"

"First impressions are everything," Ibrahim responded, proudly walking along the clean paths. "And I'll be sure to tell our 'Ministry of Biology' what you said. They would be delighted to hear it spoken by you!"

While the two doctors exchanged pleasantries about their current environment, the Courier couldn't help but not share the same sentiment. While he could not deny that it at least looked pretty with the rows of colorful flowers planted in uniformly across equally symmetrical structures, it still did not feel completely right for it to be here. It all felt out of place as if it was too artificial for him to fully appreciate. Compared to the forests he was trapped in at Germany, the best of what this "Ministry of Biology" could cook up paled in comparison. Hell, even some pockets of wilderness back home could do the same thing, Zion and Mt. Charleston coming to mind. He was too used to wandering wilderness, it seemed.

Dr. Hassoun led the two down a set of stairs to a courtyard, a wide-open space with a pillar in the middle and an octagram of flowers at its base surrounded by a square of grass. On top of the pillar was a concrete walkway that was perpendicular to another walkway that connected two buildings overlooking the square. There were other planters located along the walls and the pathways, and some people meandering about the garden. Many of them were modestly dressed, locals and tourists going about their day and enjoying the atmosphere. One exception is when Nathan heard some rustling and saw a woman attending to raised planters that were built alongside the wall immediately to their left.

She was dark-skinned, and her outfit was a futuristic-looking dress with a mix of clean white and a dark blue triangular pattern. Bits of gray metal also dotted her uniform, and she had gray pants with white lines at the outer sides of her legs. Much of her hair was neatly tied into a bun as she wore a visor with an orange tint over her eyes. Perhaps the most curious piece of apparel was on her left arm: some type of black glove that went up to her shoulder, had bits of a white metal-like covering, and an orange "light" in the middle of her palm. The only exposed parts of skin were the tips of her fingers. Her hands were at work, meticulously arranging the flowers, her face neutral yet focused. She honestly didn't look like a gardener.

Dr. Hassoun approached her, the woman noticing and slightly jerking out of surprise, yet she quickly regained her composure and addressed the doctor with a professional visage and her hand cupped at her waist.

"Ms. Vaswani," Ibrahim greeted, but with a quizzical tone. "Is something the matter?"

"Your plants seem… Unkempt," the woman stated in an accent that signified she was not a local, either. "I believe your gardener has done a subpar task at maintaining these flowers."

"I honestly see nothing wrong with the flowers, but I apologize if they have bothered you in any way."

Hassoun looked at her and noticed she was staring at something behind his back, and he turned around to see his guests staring back with quizzical expressions.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" he lamented as he stepped aside and began to introduce them to each other. "Ms. Vaswani, this is Dr. Angela Ziegler and her bodyguard, James Boone. We have invited them to Oasis to honor her for her work in medicine and as a charitable Field Medic around the world. Dr. Ziegler, this is Ms. Satya Vaswani of the Vishkar Corporation, sent to us as an envoy on their behalf."

Angela was about to step forward to offer her hand but was caught off guard as Satya bowed deeply to her, instead. The lighter skinned woman could only return the gesture, not as deep and somewhat awkwardly.

"Greetings," the Vishkar envoy said with a straight face. "And might I say that your face is of perfection."

"Oh, uh, thank you!" she responded to the odd compliment. "I like your hair."

"It could use some improvement."

Her ungloved hand went up to adjust her black hair until her eyes landed on Nathan. They stared at him, her eyes squinting as if she began to scrutinize his form. The man stared back, his brow furrowing and wondering what was up with her. Her eyes then drifted lower, to his left arm. Nathan noticed her eyes scowl for a split-second before going back to normal.

"It was a pleasure meeting both of you," she abruptly said despite sounding halfhearted. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Of course, don't let us keep you," Hassoun said, the group stepping aside and watching the woman go up the steps they had just descended. Without further ado, their host began to lead them on the tour through their garden again. Question festering in his guests from their encounter.

After about half an hour of their host showing them the sights, Angela spoke up and told the doctor that she wished to go to their hotel to finally rest, expressing fatigue from the journey. Ibrahim understood and gladly summoned a cab for them to take them to where they were staying. The cab, which turned out to be a limousine, floated in to pick them up. After Nathan loaded in their baggage in the truck, they two climbed in.

"I'll see you at the banquet, Dr. Hassoun!" she elatedly exclaimed, waving goodbye to him before closing the door.

After that, she then sat onto the fine leathers to sink into them, reclining her head back and letting out a tired sigh as she closed her eyes. The sound of ice clinking against glass made her open her eyes to see a small glass filled halfway with a caramel-tinted liquid and three ice cubes held in front of her. She looks to her right to see Nathan sitting right next to her, a glass of his own in hand. Angela takes the drink from his hand and cups it in hers.

" _Danke._ "

" _De nada._ "

After expressing gratitude, she brought the brim to her lips and took a sip of the contents, feeling it burn across her tongue and down her throat. "Mmm! Strong! I usually don't drink on the job but there's no shame indulging yourself, occasionally."

"All in moderation," Nathan agreed, taking a larger sip of the drink as he looked around the limo's interior, especially the little bar he had helped himself to. "And I have to say, they sure as hell are not sparing any expense having you around. Hassoun was true to his word; 'First impressions are everything.'"

"Heh, if only we were here strictly for pleasure," she sighed in a hushed tone. "If only."

They rode the rest of the car ride in relative silence, their limousine eventually pulling into traffic. The Waster watched as cars, or theirs', zipped by others at neck-breaking speeds. And they were a lot of them. Quite a contrast from the packed highways he was used to, except the cars didn't move unless detonated. After around ten minutes in traffic, the passengers felt their limo decelerate, slowing down significantly as it pulled up to the curb outside of a tall building. The sign out front sported a logo that looked like diamonds imposed on one another and beneath it was Arabic words.

"The 'Golden Tower Hotel'?" Angela let out, being able to read the words. "Hmm, we might be in for a treat."

Nathan opened the door and got out first, holding it open for Angela to climb out before shutting it closed. After he retrieved their luggage from the trunk, they then walked into the lobby of the hotel. It was a busy, rectangular space, a huge dark-blue rug with diamond taking up most of the middle space with tables and smartly designed chairs planted around its border. The Doctor spotted the receptionist desk, manned by a young tan-skinned woman in a formal casual shirt, and went over to it.

"Hello, I'm here to-"

"Dr. Angela Ziegler, isn't it?" the receptionist said, cutting off the Swiss woman and surprising her. "We already have your room prepared, ma'am. On behalf of the Ministries."

She handed her a small envelope that contained the keycards to her room. All the while with a smile on her face. For some reason, that was a bit unnerving for Nathan to see.

"Oh, uh- Thank you!" the Doctor expressed, taking the cards in her hand.

"You're very welcome, Doctor," the receptionist replied. "Please call us if there's anything you need."

Walking away from the desk, the two made their way to the elevator and stepped in as the doors slid open. The doors closed back up and they were alone. Angela then noticed something about the keycards they were giving, noticing they were for a slot that was on the elevator panel itself. Curious, she placed one of the keycards into the slot and after a small beep, the elevator began to move without any other interaction. It was quite a long ride, Nathan wondering if something was wrong with the elevator until they heard a ding and it made an abrupt stop. The doors opened and revealed a wide-open space of a hotel room that made the two practically drop their jaws to the ground in awe.

They walked out into the living room, furnished with fine couches and a love seat with a coffee table in the middle, facing a large TV screen hanging over a fireplace. To the right of that was a large full-fledged kitchen with a counter and cabinet tops made of the finest stones and woods, respectively. Ahead of them were glass sliding doors that led to a large balcony with planters and a hot tub. Finally, there were another set of doors right of the living room that possibly led to the bedrooms, still yet to be seen, but if what they had just witnessed was any indication…

And he thought the Lucky 38 and The Tops were top-class.

" _Jesus-fucking-Christ_!" Nathan drawled out, dropping their luggage out of shock-and-awe. "I said it once, I'll say it again; They're sparing no goddamn expense having you here. Damn, looks like they just comped you the damn presidential suite!"

"So, it seems…" the Doctor muttered, going towards the loveseat. "I wouldn't have minded anything more… humble, but…"

Without a second thought, the Swiss Doctor flopped onto the loveseat burying her face into the soft fabric of the puffy cushion with a huge grin on her face and eyes closed in bliss. She rolled on her back, hugging one of the pillows close to her chest and letting out a huge sigh of relief. Working constantly and tiresomely in Overwatch as the Head Doctor and as a Field Medic in disaster and war zones just weeks prior really took a toll on her. All luxuries bestowed upon she took without a second thought, when there was time, of course. After lying a few moments on what seemed like a cloud with a hint of pleasurable fragrances, Angela noticed something cast a shadow over her and opened her eyes to see Nathan standing over her.

"Getting comfortable?" he asked rhetorically.

That only garnered in her nodding, eyes blissfully closed, with her face still pressed up against the pillow. He perked one brow and displayed a slightly bewildered expression since he's never seen the blonde Doctor act like this before. Sure, she was friendly and kind at times but was always attentive and rarely broke her professional façade for other than a few bursts of laughter. It was different seeing her like this.

The Courier let out a sigh, shaking his head as he went and retrieved their luggage to place it closer to the table. Grabbing his duffel bag, he zipped it open before rummaging through it and pulling two things out: A holopad and his .45 Pistol.

"Too bad we still have work to do," he stated, placing the pad upright and activating it.

"Ugh, don't remind me!" Angela lamented, rising from the loveseat, and going over to the couch and sitting next to Nathan. "I feel like this will just make me regret answering the 'Recall' more."

As they waited for the holopad to boot up, Nathan fiddled with his 1911, ejecting the magazine and pulling on the slide to check the chamber. Everything seemed to be in working order. Then, they heard the elevator door ding.

Nathan slammed the magazine into his and racked the slide, before rising and pointing the muzzle at the entrance. Angela rose too, yelping out of surprise, and tried to lower his shooting arm. The doors opened, and someone passed through, the Courier tightened his grip. Then, a glimmer of gold flashed in the sunlight and Nathan brought the muzzle in the air and his finger off the trigger. It was Fareeha, dressed in a leather jacket, dark jeans, and a pair of aviators. She had a duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

"For Tandi's sake…" he muttered under his breath, lowering the gun, taking the magazine out, and ejecting the cartridge.

"You might need to keep that thing holstered, then," Fareeha responded, walking forward, and dropping the duffle bag behind the couch.

"How'd you get in?"

She responded by merely holding a white keycard in the air, different from Angela's but similar to what he used in Egypt at the compound.

"Ah."

"And I must say, this is quite a room, Angela," the Egyptian said, taking off her aviators to reveal a pair gawking at the accommodations. "This beats the barracks, that's for sure. Did you two contact Gibraltar, yet?"

"We were about to," the Swiss woman responded. "Should we at least wait for Jack and Ana, first, now that you're here?"

"Don't worry about them. They'll be here soon. Now, the earlier we contact and inform Winston, the better."

It seemed like she was rushing things a tad, but the two went along with it and got back to the holopad on the coffee table. Fareeha walked over and took a seat on the couch, flanking Nathan on the other side. Finally, the screen blinked to show the familiar face of their boss, Winston.

"Ah, glad to see you've all made it," he stated with a smile, which shortly disappeared as he leaned in closer and saw there was only three of them. "Er- Three of you I mean. Where are Ana and Morrison?"

"They'll be here soon," Nathan echoed, pointing to the woman right of him. "At least, that's what she said."

"I see... Well," he expressed with some concern. "How are you guys so far? Made any progress in the mission, yet?"

Ziegler shook her tired head, followed by Nathan shrugging and letting out an apathetic grunt.

"We're fine, a bit exhausted, but fine," the Doctor muttered, expressing their jet-lag. "As for the mission… So far, we've met with Dr. Hassoun, who welcomed us to his city. Thankfully, he has been a gracious host."

"Dr. Hassoun? As in Dr.  _Ibrahim_  Hassoun? Wow, I wish I was there to meet someone like him! Anything else that could be relevant to the mission?"

"In all honesty, no. Coming to Oasis has been a rather peaceful and boring affair, so far. Besides the city's obvious scientific and technological prowess, there has been nothing else especially noteworthy. Except…"

Angela stopped herself, remembering one strange incident on the initial tour from Dr. Hassoun in the botanical gardens. The strange encounter they had.

"There was this woman we met," she tried to recall. "I can't recall her name…"

Nathan did, though, recalling how odd the woman was acting when they came across her. How she was meticulously arranging a planter of flowers because they looked "unkempt", and giving an odd comment about Angela's "perfect" appearance with such a straight face. The thing that stuck most with him was how she stared at Nathan as if she was analyzing his form and regarded him with a less than satisfactory disposition. As if she found something wrong. Well, to be fair, she did look at Nathan. But she still seemed... Obsessed with little details no one else pays any mind to. Something wasn't entirely right with her.

"Vaswani," Nathan answer for the woman on his left. "We met a woman named Satya Vaswani, a representative of the Vishkar Corporation."

They noticed Winston's expression change when he heard those words, as well as a change in his tone.

"Vishkar?" the Scientist questioned, in a noticeably more cautious tone. "What are they doing there?"

"You know 'em?" the Courier asked.

"Uh- Yes. Hold on a second."

The Gorilla turned away from the screen and began typing on his keyboard until a new screen flashed across his face. He adjusted his glasses as he cleared his throat.

"Vishkar is megacorporation based out of India," he began to explain. "They are the pioneers of 'hard-light technology', which is basically a way of bending light to create solid structures, like buildings. However, in recent times, they've come under a lot of heat. Mainly, for ruling over the city of  _Rio de Janeiro_  supposedly with an iron fist and subsequently being driven out by a revolution from its people."

'Why am I not that surprised?' the Courier questioned himself, not sure why he expected anything more from something called a "megacorporation". Corporations ceased existing in his world for around two-hundred years, yet they left a mark on the Earth the survivors were forced to inherit. An Earth that was still largely in shatters because of their bullshit.

"What about this Vaswani person?" the Courier asked, also growing suspicious of their presence in a city of science. "Anything noteworthy about her?"

"Uhh... Let's see," the Scientist typed more onto his computer. "She's one of Vishkar's more talented 'architects', as they call them, and I believe was present for Vishkar operations elsewhere. Rio included. Might be worth something to keep an eye on her... Anything else?"

The group on the couch exchanged looks with each other, noting that they all had nothing new further to say in regard to the mission. Also, noting they were fatigued, some more than others.

"I'll keep my head on a swivel when I'm out there," Amari declared with a serious tenor, determined to find the man she should've arrested weeks ago in Egypt. For her men.

"I'll see what I can find on my end," Ziegler stated, followed by a yawn. "Whether I'll find anything substantial is debatable, as I'm sure our man is not of the 'institutionary' sort."

"And I'll," Brin started, continuing the chain. "Follow Angela around, I guess. That's what a bodyguard supposed to do."

"I wish you guys good luck, then," Winston said, nodding to the group. "Over and out."

He blinked off and left the three alone in the hotel suite.

* * *

Big Mountain Research and Development Center, California Wasteland

2285

Veronica and Parmley had all the gear they had spread all over the Central Intelligence Unit's screen, taking inventory of what they had and what could prove useful in their rescue attempt. They knew they were dealing with robots and could be destroyed, but it was usually easier said than done in these types of situations. Situations that Veronica, especially during her time with the Courier, usually found herself in when spelunking through Old World ruins that were more like dungeons. The biggest difference being that the robots they were dealing with weren't usually this human-like. Where they came from and who made them were still a mystery that not even the floating brains in jars couldn't answer.

Looking over what they had; They had a few Pulse Grenades and Pulse Mines, which has yet to be tested and were on their effectiveness against these metal test subjects. They also had Plasma Grenades, cut above normal grenades and could provide the firepower they would need if the EMP's were useless. Finally, they had four packs of C4 with a detonator, though it wasn't very offensive in its capabilities and would have to be stored for later use. When they need a big-ass crater that is.

On the aspect of Energy Weapons, the Brotherhood was more charitable than usual, providing Parmley two weapons from their arsenal: an AER-9 Tri-Beam variant and a Glock 86 Plasma Defender. The Ranger was largely unfamiliar with energy weapons, but the Scribe did her best to instruct him.

"This thing's basically a shotgun," she stated, handing the AER to Parmley. "It simultaneously fires three beams with every squeeze of the trigger which spreads further apart the longer the distance. Burns through cells much faster, too."

"What about you?" he asked, as he shouldered the laser rifle, getting a feel for its bulky frame. "Still gonna punch your way through them?"

"I still like being up close and personal, but…"

Veronica grabbed the Plasma Defender, feeling the weight of the blocky pistol in her hands. Remembering all the lessons she got from Nathan on how to shoot things like this. Not nearly as good as him, but still.

"A little insurance doesn't hurt."

The Ranger smirked at the woman, before groaning made him turn around to see the Boone standing next to the Auto-Doc and gently rubbing his fingers against the skin with a sense of disbelief at how seemingly devoid it seemed of any tissue damage.

"If only we had you during Hoover Dam," the 1st Recon Sniper mentioned, rubbing his palm over his arm. "Thanks."

"Yer' welcome," the machine said, still with a rough inflection. "Now, usually I would advise people to not partake further in the activities that caused your ailments, but if you are anything like the other bullheaded son-of-a-bitch we both call 'friend', I have a feeling we will see each other very soon."

"You can count on it. We ready?"

The group all had their gear, primed, and loaded. Veronica pulled on her Power Fist, making it flush against the shape of her hand and shaking her fingers to make it snug. Parmley plugged a MicroFusion Cell into the Tri-Beam and listened to the machine hum inside like a mini-reactor before slinging it onto his back. Boone inserted a fresh magazine into his trusty bolt-action rifle and operated the bolt, a round chambering positively. Finally, Cooper stretched his back by curling forward as Rex scratched one of his ears with a mechanical leg. At least some of them were armed with things other than their teeth.

Without another word, the group exited The Sink, making their way out into the outside remains of Big Mountain proper.

* * *

They stepped outside, landing their boots onto the cracked pavement that surrounded the large dome they were inside just seconds before. Now, they had to venture to the south, to this "Antennae Array" that was supposedly where the other scientists were being kept. Before they made another step forward, Parmley voiced a thought that probably should've been voiced earlier.

"Do you guys… Trust 'em?"

Boone and Veronica turned to the man, giving him incredulous and unamused stares, and wondering why he didn't bother asking that earlier when they were still inside the dome. Even the dogs looked up at him, their mouths closed and without a tongue hanging out to affirm that they were not amused, either.

"What?"

Then, distracting them from the poorly-timed question, a mass of skittering startled the group and made them turn around to see a group of scorpions fast approaching. However, they weren't ordinary Radscorpions but were robotic versions of the arachnids painted largely in yellow with red pincers, back, and stinger, and a line of green along either side of the tail. They had four orange eyes covered by a glass visor.

The party had gotten into a defensive stance, ready to take on the robots, until they abruptly stopped a mere few meters from them. Confused, a voice then spoke from the lead scorpions through an unseen speaker.

"Hello!" the voice of Dr. Mobius called out. "It turns out I had forgotten I had these machines in my possession. Introducing the 'Robo-Scorpion', capable of fulfilling all the needs a scientist has for an arachnoid army! I hope they serve you well."

"Wow," their Scribe expressed, walking towards the robots to get a closer look. "These are impressive!"

"Why, thank you! I take pride in my arachnoid cremations. Now, let us go. Let us charge into battle! Follow me- urgh- Us!"

"Wait, what-?!"

Without warning, the nest of Robo-Scorpions dashed away, skittering seemingly too fast for their stubby robo-legs.

"Hey! Wait up!"

The group could only but comply, bolting after the machines. They ran through the remains of Big Mountain, noting how alien and desolate the area seemed, even when compared to the Mojave. Rocks, rubble, and metal were scattered through the zone, making it somewhat of a challenge to keep up with the Robo-Scorpions that seemed to crawl through the environment with ease. For a while, the group ran along this large pipe that was suspended in the air by metal supports and seemed to lead them to their intended destination. Soon enough, there was something rising in the distance, a large, white structure that rose to the sky. They were getting close.

After trekking for a minute or two, the two groups had stopped around a couple hundred meters or so away from the entrance, taking cover behind a rock. Boone and Parmley peeked over the rock, the Sniper with his sniper scope and the Ranger with a pair of binoculars. They scanned the Array's entrance and tried to find any threats that were in their way. It wasn't long until the Sniper spotted something white and metal prowling around the perimeter on two legs instead of eight.

"I see two of them outside of the entrance," Boone alerted his team, then raising his scope up to the upper levels. "I see another two walking along the catwalk leading up to that huge satellite dish. Looks like they haven't spotted us, yet."

However, the sounds of rounds whizzing through the air and their impact into the rocks near them said otherwise. The two instantly slinked further into cover, holding onto their heads to make sure they were still intact.

"Scratch that!" Boone exclaimed, hugging his rifle closer to his chest.

"Wait!" Parmley yelled, pulling his rifle out. "I didn't see any muzzle flashes coming from the tower. Those rounds came from the West!"

More gunfire rang out in the distance and the two gained more courage to look over the rock to see the robots were engaging a large group of humans. Something was off about these people, as their heads were covered in strange apparel and they were either dressed in dirty jumpsuits or hospital gowns. They were well-armed, as well. And some of the humans broke off from the main group and were attacking them.

"Who're they?!" Parmley questioned over the sound of gunfire.

"LOBOTOMITES," Klein told them through one of the Robo-scorpions. "THEY WERE ORIGINALLY MEANT TO SERVE US. CLEAN UP AFTER US AS SCIENCE CAN BE MESSY, AS SOME OF YOU MAY KNOW. UNFORTUNATELY, THEY APPEAR TO BE FERAL. AND HAVE AN IMPECCABLE KNOWLEDGE OF FIREARMS, SOMEHOW."

"Well, whoever they are, they're getting uncomfortably close… Okay, I think our best bet would to flank and charge-"

One of the Robo-Scorpions cut him off, but it was Mobius on the other line.

"Charge?" Mobius questioned. "An excellent strategy. Robo-Scorpions, assemble!"

"What? N-no!" Parmley stammered, trying to stop the metal arachnids blindly running in.

"Charge!"

The mechanical invertebrates boldly took off from the cover of their rock and charged into the ensuing battle, soon joining in the firefight. Snipping and stinging anything that stood in their way, robot or otherwise. Thankfully, the group of Lobotomites that were taking potshots at them was now trying to fend off the Robo-Scorpions, with varying success.

"Come on!" the Ranger ordered, taking off and running around the hill with the others following suit.

Dashing around the rocks for a minute eventually brought them in view of the Array's Eastern side. As they got closer, they could see the three-way fight unfold and turn the entrance of the Array into a small war zone. The Lobotomites weren't faring well as they took a hammering from both automated forces. One Lobomite having its head repeatedly "stung" by one of the Robo-Scorps while another was thrown against a pipe by one of the strange robots, strong enough to leave a splatter of blood on the pipe. However, as the human test subjects were picked off like bloatflies, the two robots began to engage each other.

While the Robo-Scorps were strong and heavily armored, the bipeds were quick, agile, and had fire support from a nearby cliff. One of the Robo-Scorps fell in battle as machine-gun fire was unloaded onto its exoskeleton and turned it into a fizzling, sparking scrap heap. Then, more bipeds began to flood out of the Array's entrance, tipping the odds heavily in their favor if it weren't for two shiny objects landing at their feet.

As the grenades exhumed a bubble of energy and showered the robots in an E.M.P., they froze and spasm uncontrollably before collapsing to the ground with circuits fried to hell. The trio and two dogs made their way around to the entrance, the Sharpshooter and Ranger providing covering fire at the cliff as Veronica got the door open. When the door swung inward, she was immediately greeted by a glowing red eye and cold hands reaching for her. She ducked and swiftly swiped her feet under its legs and knocked it to the ground, before delivering Power Fist upon its head and crushing.

"Not this time," she mocked, making a mental note to remember to thank a Ranger at Novac when they come back.

The others began to file in after her, Parmley being the last one in as he was still firing at the cliff before coming inside. Shutting the door behind them, they could still hear the fighting persisting between Mobius' creations and the bipeds, with the muffled sounds of gunfire and Mobius' voice.

"Sure as hell not what I had in mind," Parmley lamented with a slightly more haggard breath. "But we made it this far."

"Let's not celebrate just yet, pal," Veronica quipped, looking through the inner doorway and up to the ceiling. "We still got some stairs to climb."

They stopped and listen to the sound of metal feet whirring and clanging as they began to climb down the stairs, making their way to them. Parmley pulled out the Tri-Beam, pushing the switch forward and listening to the receiver hum with power. Veronica further adjusted the glove, making sure it was tight against her hand. The three exchanged looks with each other before finally charging out of the room and to the stairs.

Boone ran to the other side of the room, chucking a Pulse Grenade up before shouldering his rifle to provide covering fire. A second or two later, the grenade detonated and the fizzling body of one of the robots came crashing down to the bottom floor, nearly hitting the Sniper, and making him yelp out of surprise. The rest made their ways up the stairs, Parmley taking point with the Tri-Beam but the dogs overtaking them and charging upwards on all fours. One robot that intercepted them quickly got pelted by a series of laser bolts before its melted husk fell over the railing and hurtled to the ground.

"I'm still down here!" the Sniper complained, almost crushed by another robotic corpse.

"Sorry!" the Ranger apologized to his fellow serviceman.

Two robots were left now, both guarding the door that led to the final room. The machines opened fire, forcing the two humans to take cover by whatever thin sheet of metal was near them. However, the two machines were not able to account for the two dogs dashing at them on all fours. The two blurs target the robot on the left, Rex latching onto the hand that held the gun while Cooper weaved through its legs and grabbing onto one of the ankles. The other robot was about to open fire on the dogs until a red beam exploded its rectangular head, the rest of its body falling to the floor. Still struggling with the dogs, the last robot swiped Rex away with its free hand and then knocked Cooper away with the stock of the gun. Before it could aim at the dog, a metal fist drove into it and knocked it over the edge tumbling to the bottom and bouncing off a few railings down the way. Veronica peered over the edge, seeing the mangled corpse on the ground near Boone, who looked up at her with a slightly more annoyed look than usual.

"Uh- Sorry about that!" Veronica apologized with a sheepish smile.

After the fighting was done, they waited for him to climb up and stood in front of the last door leading to the room that was up top. The two men readied their weapons, the woman her fist, and slid the door open. It opened to reveal the missing Scientists, the other "brains" that their friends had told them to find. There were four of them, each one housing their brains in different tinted cases of goo. For some reason, however, they laid dormant and had their screens off and hugging close to their body and didn't respond to the group at all. Their bodies, other than a few scratches, seemed fine and didn't have any considerable damage. Poking one of them, they floated away slightly. So, it looks like they were going to haul them back to The Sink.

As they examined them, Veronica noticed a ladder in the middle of the runway going up, most likely leading to the satellite dish that sat upon this building. Curiosity and Scribe intellect getting the better of her, she went over to it and began to climb.

"I'll be right back," she called out to her friends, already scaling the rungs. "I'm going to see where this goes."

"Let me at least come with you," Boone offered, already following behind. "Need someone to watch your back."

Veronica had already reached the hatch and open it outward, revealing the blue sky to her.

"I know you've already got," she quipped, looking back down at him. "Just please don't look at my ass-"

"Watch out!" Boone suddenly alerted, pointing up.

Veronica turned her head back up and was greeted by a round, metallic head staring straight at her with a big red eye. Before she could react, the robot grabbed her hands and lifted her up with ease. It brought the woman up to eye level, her body high in the air. It leaned its head in closer, Veronica wide-eyed and breathing nervously as she tried to pull away. Pistol fire rang out, as Boone popped out from the hatch and was firing at it with his sidearm. The robot threw the woman to the side, landing onto the satellite dish. Boone kept firing at the approaching robot with little effect until it kicked the latch close and made him fall off the ladder and to the catwalk.

The ex-Scribe in the Followers coat groaned in pain as she tried to sit up, looking up and getting a good look at the machine. It was tall, much taller than the robots they were fighting earlier, and lankier. Its body was more refined, bearing much more in resemblance with humans than the other ones. It was holding something in its left hand, something metal. The Scribe looked with horror as she saw it had her Power Fist, her right hand now naked at the worst possible time. Noticing what she was looking at, the robot lifted her fist to its eye, examining it for a few moments before looking back at the woman.

"You won't be needing this," it said, in a deep, guttural, and synthetic voice before tossing her prized weapon over the satellite at quite a distance. "You will not impede this mission any further."

Sparks from up top made her look up, and see strange machines tied and connected to the satellites receivers, not matching the design of anything else in this facility. They must have installed those recently, but why?

She shook her head, trying to focus on survival as she got up and ran around the dish, trying to avoid the machine. It pulled out a gun, some sort of energy weapon, and fired blue thin beams at her. She bobbed and weaved, trying to take cover behind the thin supports holding the receiver. The machine slowly walked to her, its metal feet clanking against the satellite dish. Noticing the support next to her had a ladder imposed on it, she ran over to it and began to climb to the top as the robot shot at her.

"Trying to escape will only prolong the inevitable," the machine menacingly warned, looking up at her. "Come down and things should be simpler."

That hatch opening caught its attention and looked down to see Parmley poking out and trying to lift the Plasma Defender at it. It swiftly got kicked away, breaking the man's arm and knocking the plasma pistol from his hands. Then, something landed on the machine and made it fall to the ground while the object tumbled away from it. It was Veronica, her coat swishing and flapping as she rolled on the ground with a grunt. She tried to get up, the wind knocked out of her, but her eyes widening as she saw the Plasma Defender mere feet away from her. She looked back, the machine already up and approaching her with an extended arm. She scurried to the gun, blood rushing through her veins and the adrenaline pumping. The Scribe lunged at it, wrapping her naked right hand over the grip and immediately rolling on her back. The tall robot was right on top of her. She squeezed the trigger, flinching from the recoil, and watched as the machine's red eye was replaced with a smoldering hole stained with green goo.

It slumped to the dish, its shiny head landing in between Veronica's feet. The sights of the gun still trained on it, she stared at the corpse and felt her heart thumping in her chest with the blood rushing through her head. After a few moments of nothing but electrical humming and her own ragged breathing, the boxer finally let the gun fall to her side as she let out a huge sigh of relief.


	23. Seeing the Sights

The morning Sun shined through the window, the curtains impeding its progress and not fully illuminating the dingy motel room. The motel room wasn't anything special; It was small, had one Queen-sized bed in the middle, a couch parallel to it that hugged alongside the bottom of the window, and a set of drawers and dressers that furnished the wall in front of the bed. It was even furnished with a T.V., despite there being no broadcasting stations for the past two-hundred years. The walls were peeling, much of the red carpet was stained, and the bathroom could be in better condition. However, it always served the man sleeping on the bed well, whenever he visited Novac.

As the morning only dragged on, rays of light getting through the curtains began to land on the man's face, making him stir more in his sleep. He tossed and turn, attempting to shield his face. Until finally, he groaned and slowly sat up, trying to wipe away the drowsiness from his eyes. He stops, blinking a few times for his eyes to get into focus, then looks around his grimy home away from home. One of them, at least.

It looked the same as it ever did, yet somehow a bit more messy than usual. He looked to see his gear resting upon the drawers and his weapons up against a cabinet, with a plate of a half-eaten steak and an empty Nuka-Cola bottle beside the defunct T.V. He then looked to his right, and saw his armor and clothes splayed out over the couch. However, he noticed there were other articles of clothing that accompanied his. A pair of faded jeans that seemed too slim, a pink-white plaid shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a straw hat. He felt movement tremor on the left side of the bed and turned to see a woman, lying on her side with her back to him, the bed sheet only covering the lower half of her naked body. She was light-skinned, had red hair, and a pendant around her neck. On her nightstand was a bottle of moonshine.

He released an annoyed grumble, rubbing his face with his Pip-Boy gloved hand. When he opened his eyes again, however, he just stared at the woman's naked form. Watching as she serenely laid there with her chest slowly moving. He could faintly see the rose blushes on her cheeks, and not just the ones on her face. Slowly, his frown shifted into a calm smile. At least it looked like a fun night, even if his memory was hazy on it.

Leisurely, he laid back down on his side and got up close to his friend's back. She stirred a bit more as he did so. With a sly smile, he wrapped his right arm around her belly and hugged her close to him, prompting, even more, stirs and tired groans, but no signs of protest. His chest was up against her smooth back, and his bearded chin nuzzling up against her rose hair. She still smelled like whiskey.

"Hnnggh…" out came another sound from her, her head turning slightly over her shoulder. "… Could it kill you to give a gal some personal space? Sure, we fucked, but y'know I'm not the affectionate-morning-type."

"I know, Cass," her friend responded, still hugging her close. "Still, you can't deny this is somewhat pleasant, can ya'?"

"I can. Just don't overdo it."

"No promises."

Despite the protests, the two just continued to lie down together, snuggling up to each other and not really wanting to disturb the peace they had. Moments where they could genuinely enjoy peace and quiet, especially with others, were far and few in-between with their travels across the Wastes. Anytime the opportunity pops up, they made sure to relish in it as best they could. Not just the friends sharing the bed, but everyone in their party. These two were just more… Intimate about things.

Before they could soak in more of their alcohol-ridden morning, a series of knocks hit the motel room door, making the man groan more than the morning sun would. The Whiskey Rose woman promptly grabbed and lifted his arm from her stomach, much to his displeasure, before sitting up and stretching her arms up in the air.

"You best answer that," she said, yawning as she stood up wearing nothing but a pendant.

He was too focused on her ass to respond.

"Nathan?" another feminine voice called out from outside, accompanied by more knocking. "Hellooooooo? Nathan, are you there?"

"Yeah!" he called out, still groggy. "J-just, hold on."

"You better put your clothes on!" the woman exclaimed. "I know what happens when you drink too much with Cass!"

That only prompted him to shake his head and groan more, turning back and watching the naked Caravanner disappear to the bathroom with the moonshine in hand.

With a sigh, he got up from the bed and went over to the couch to retrieve his clothes, to at least be somewhat decent. The knocking became more incessant the longer it took for him to clothe himself, not really helping as there were still sensations of the hangover aching his brain.

"Alright, alright, Christ," he said, walking over as he finally put his shirt on. "No need to rush things, Veroni-"

Without warning, a black hook embedded into the wood of the door, making it splinter where it hit. He spun around to see a figure fast approaching with a cable before it crashed right into him. It slammed him against the door, shaking the motel walls. He fell to the carpeted floor on his ass with a pained yelp, his back stinging and getting numb. He rubs his head, trying to get himself back up.

"Cass, what the hell!" he yelled, now wide awake. "The fuck are you doi-…?!"

He looked up, but instead of the brash, whiskey rose cow-girl he's traveled hundreds of miles with, there was a woman with blue skin, wearing a skin-tight purple suit that exposed a much of her chest and a set of spider-eye goggles over her long strands of dark-blue hair. She had a strange blue rifle in her arms, the muzzle of the elongated barrel obstructing most of his vision as he looked up. Her eyes, unnaturally yellow and lifeless, stared down at him with an emotion that was stuck between apathy and disdain. She was hauntingly beautiful.

His eyes drifted behind her, spotting the bathroom door wide open and an arm limp on the floor, the rest of her body unseen. Nathan looked back up, his mouth snarling and curling a hand into a fist, looking at the blue woman's dead, lifeless eyes with rage in his. All the while, the knocking on the door never relented and only grew in its intensity and frequency. Becoming white noise for him.

The Courier only seethed, his teeth gritting.

The blue woman rose a thin, manicured eyebrow at him. As if prompting a question, wondering how to respond to the visual cues. Then, the blue assassin's face contorted into a small yet playful smile as she let out an ominous chuckle. As if this was all just all in good fun. Joined by the crashing on the door, the blue woman continued laughing as she crouched down to his level. The Courier wanted to do something, to get her away from him and to enact revenge for his friend… But he couldn't move. As if he was frozen and being smothered against his own will. The man could barely move his head as she got close, the iciness of her skin radiating on to him. The pounding on the door still refused to cease.

The scantily-clad sniper suddenly – and forcefully - grabbed the back of his head, her fingers yanking on his short hair, pivoting his head to stare her directly in the eyes. Staring down at him, rather wistfully, before her lips contorted into a quaint smile. She cocked her head to the side, opening her mouth slightly and slowly guiding her face towards his, her victim trying to pull away but feeling the force of her hand somehow keeping him in place. Her lips hovered mere centimeters from his, her breath icy and stinging. The lady then uttered a phrase, the words foreign to him and dragging it out with a thirst for lust in her voice. Dripping with ecstasy and callousness, feeling every inhalation brush against his lips. Contrasted with the desperate panting from him

" _C'est la vie_."

* * *

Nathan's eyes shot open, before sitting up and scrambling in the sheets. For once relieved to see he was not back at Novac.

Instead, he was at the fine, luxurious hotel room with clean walls and puffy bedding, very different from the room he spent many nights in back at Novac. He gave a heavy sigh, not of relief, but of exasperation. The sweat glistening over his body making the air around him feel cold, like the blue woman's skin.

He leaned forward, resting his face in the palms of his hands. Breathing into them and feeling his breath warm up the sweat on his brow. It had been weeks ever since their "introduction", and yet he still had dreams about that blue woman. The one that almost killed him at Gibraltar. Why?

He roamed the wastes for years, seeing many horrors and atrocities committed by man and mutant. The Wasteland inflicting so much onto him, mercilessly, and he doubted there were many here that could share the same sentiment. The things he's done, the things he's been forced to go through… They all left their mark on him, in some way. But why did  _she_  invade his dreams, the few he has, so frequently and unforgivingly? Was it because she almost killed him? She wasn't noteworthy in that respect, but she left a mark that was questionably so profane. It was almost as profane as the ones carved into his skin.

'What was her name?'

Thoughts shattered as three successive knocks hit his bedroom door, making him look up and feel his heart skip a beat. His nerves calmed when he heard it was just Fareeha Amari.

"Brin?" she called out, knocking again. "Are you awake?"

"I am now…" he grumbled, getting out of bed. "I'll be out soon."

"We'll be waiting."

The Security-Chief walked away, the Courier alone with his thoughts, again.

* * *

Oasis, Iraq

2076

After a quick shower, Nathan lumbered out into the living room, dressed in the same outfit he wore when they first came into the city, except with a bit more wrinkles. The first thing he noticed walking in was the smell of something pleasant, potent enough that it almost woke him up from his dazed state. The aroma luring him into the main living area, there was a dining table filled with plates of foreign food. Well, foreign to him. There was an assortment of diced meats, veggies, spices, and some type of flatbread splayed all over the fine wooden surface. There was even what looked like an omelet. Not only was the smell enticing, but the appearance was also appealing. Enough to make the Wastelander's mouth water. Almost enough to make him forget what he dreamed about.

"Look who's finally up."

His eyes peered up from the food to Ana Amari, without the cloak and tactical gear, but just a slim Overwatch shirt. She sat at the far end of the table, nestling a little teacup in her hands, the contents still steaming as a tag on a string hung from the side. Nathan looked to see the others were present around the table; Fareeha, Angela, and even Jack all occupied their own seats. While the Sniper and Doctor were helping themselves to the meals, the old Soldier seemed content with just a mug of coffee and a small plate of bread while the Career-Soldier was focused on a holopad, occasionally taking a bite out of some food.

"Mornin'," the Courier listlessly greeted, taking the remaining empty seat that was between Angela and Jack. "Where were you guys? Didn't see you the entire night."

"We decided to do a bit of 'sightseeing' when we got here," Ana explained, taking another sip before continuing. "It was difficult, but there was plenty to observe. Places of interests and noteworthy sights. Whether it will help with the mission, we'll see."

"Then, we shouldn't be staying here," Morrison spoke up, looking up from his coffee to his comrade, but not with a commanding gaze. "We need to be out there and scoping out as much as we can. The sooner we find this Hakim, the better."

Rather than agreeing with her comrade, Ana gave her old Commander a displeased expression followed by an amused huff. Shaking her head, she takes another sip of her tea and savors the warm liquid with a closed eye.

"Oh, Jack…" the Sniper hums. "I know we're old soldiers, but there's no shame in some occasional relaxation. Moreover, it's daylight, and I'd rather spend the free time I have with my ' _ḥ_ _ab_ _ī_ _bt_ _á_ '."

"Mother, please…" Fareeha groaned, looking up from her tablet at the older Amari. "We still have a job to do."

The Mother regarded her daughter with a thoughtful look, before gently respiring as she sipped at her tea, again.

"I know, Fareeha."

Meanwhile, Nathan had already assembled an arrangement of meat and bread over his plate, with some vegetables siding the dish. Not sure how he had to go about eating the cuisine, the Californian just ripped off a piece of the bread and sandwiched whatever he could gather within the fold. Mostly, meat with some sprinkling of green in between the folds. He brought it up to his mouth and bit a chunk off, instantly feeling the warmth of the bread overlap with the moist flavors of the meat and greens. He was slightly caught off-guard by how delicious it was despite being such a basic meal. Happily chewing on it before swallowing, then repeating the cycle by ripping off and ingesting more of the bread. It wasn't long until he started digging in further, soon going for seconds after he depleted the contents on his plate.

"Speaking of work…" Nathan uttered, scooping up more meat into his plate. "What's the plan for today?"

"I've been invited to Oasis' University," Dr. Ziegler explained, eating as she looked over a document on her holopad. "To be given a tour, I presume. No doubt the Ministries want to show off one of their most prized sites to their guest of honor."

"What about the banquet? When is that going to happen?"

"I am told tomorrow night, but they are still apparently working on the event."

The Courier frowned when he heard the news, not liking how they only had a day before the main event and how much of that they were going to spend on trying to find Hakim. They did not even have a proper lead and could very well be chasing ghosts at this point. The "why" of Hakim even being associated with Oasis had yet to be answered.

Even though he hasn't dabbled in the profession long, being an armed escort wasn't a very rewarding affair. Having to constantly watch not just his back but another's, as well, was always more stressful than it should've been. On top of that, being in a completely alien environment would only complicate things, further. At least the person he had to watch over had medical expertise.

"So, how much of that time are we going to spend finding Hakim?" he asked, almost begging for an answer.

"I wish I could say," the blonde admitted, shaking her head to show she shared the sentiment. "When the opportunity presents itself, I hope? Honestly, I don't think touring a University could help us find a Talon-associated criminal-in-hiding."

"Could the Ministries be involved in any way? Surely, they'd be the one to know what happens in and around their beloved city."

"They could, but it's doubtful they would know the whereabouts of someone like Hakim hiding in their city and not do anything about it. Especially someone associated with Talon."

'And that somehow worries me,' the Courier thought to himself.

The fact that Oasis was a city meant to be run by scientists with the appealing prospect of "no restrictions" already gave him suspicions to be wary of. Ignoring his past experiences with "brains in jars", people that always act so prim and proper, greeting everybody with smiles and handshakes, were sometimes the ones hiding secrets. Nothing, other than one man's name and job, was laid out for him. He hoped they could prove him wrong.

"So, the 'Old Soldiers' will probably deal with most of the espionage while I guard the 'guest of honor'," he summarized the plan so far before he turned to address the younger Amari. "What are you gonna do?"

"Hold down the fort and keep the comms online between us and Gibraltar," Fareeha stated but with an unsatisfied sigh. "Boring, but someone has to do it. Still, I'd prefer having my boots on the ground, searching for Hakim, that  _worm_."

After she muttered that, Ana's eye glanced at her daughter for a second before going back and just blissfully sipping her tea with her eye closed. Fareeha's eyes were still focused on her tablet. Nathan noticed, however, and shook his head after as he went back to finishing breakfast.

"Well, if we ever find him and need to interrogate him," Nathan said, stuffing more of the bread into his mouth. "I'll be sure to loosen him up for you."

The younger Egyptian chuckled, looking up at the Californian with a sense of gratitude. It probably wasn't genuine, but the graciousness wasn't something to pass up. Especially with what she's been through.

"I'm sure my men and I would like that."

However, as they went back to finishing their breakfast, no one noticed the older Captain giving Nathan a critical eye. It was only for a split-second before she finally finished her tea.

* * *

Leaving the hotel and being given another limousine ride, Angela and "James" were on the highways, again. The car ride was relatively silent for the duration of the trip, Angela looking down on her pad and scrolling through some holoscreens while her bodyguard sat on the opposite seat and just stared out the window, his eyes fixed on the tall, black skyscraper still in construction and towering over everything else in the city. It drifted slowly along the horizon while everything else zipped by.

He turned his head around and looked to the other side to see the Doctor staring out of her window, too, an arm propped up against the car door and supporting her chin. She seemed bored, her eyes blankly glued to the horizon. Nathan couldn't help but sympathize with the Swiss woman. This "manhunt" was starting to become boring rather quickly. Hell, more so than the mission at King's Row since Oxton's (and oddly enough, the local population's) snarky attitude kept things interesting until the exciting conclusion that rocked London. They were sent into an Oasis in the desert on a cold trail. Perhaps the old-timers will have better luck. They're certainly in a more flexible position

"Bored?" the Californian asked as he reclined in his seat and stretched his arms.

"Hmm?" the Swiss woman let out, broken out of her trance as she looked over her shoulder. "Oh, no it's not that. It's just…"

"What?"

"It's just I feel like I'm wasting my time being here. Being the guest of honor to this city for my humanitarian work, while at the same time taking a break from the humanitarian work."

Nathan's face scrunched up at the last statement, noticing how it contradicted with something she said the day before.

"Weren't you making remarks on how you wished you were here 'strictly for pleasure'?"

"I did, but scoping out a wanted man isn't what I would call 'humanitarian work', either. At least, for a doctor."

"What would you prefer to be doing, right now?"

Dr. Ziegler turned to face the Wastelander when he posed that, her face shifting thoughtfully as she tried to form an answer. What it meant for her.

"Giving aid to those in need," she finally replied, somewhat pridefully. "Young and old. Rich and poor. All over the world. Giving a helping hand, to whoever needs it the most in any way I can."

She looked up and saw Nathan staring at her, his brow furrowed, giving the doctor an odd reaction to the statement she just made. Angela just lets out a short chuckle.

"Sorry," Angela tried to apologize, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. "That sounded really melodramatic."

"Eh," Nathan shrugged, not really bothered by it. "Least I know the 'Followers' would love you."

Before the Doctor could follow through with that statement and get some clarification, the limousine came to a halt and pulled right up to Oasis's University. The Academy that very well could be the city's crown jewel.

The two exit their limo, Nathan being the first to leave the car and holding the door open for the Swiss guest. She stepped out, dressed in semi-formal attire consisting of an orange dress shirt and black dress pants with her doctor's coat over it. She carried a bag with the things she needed over her left arm. He shuts the door after she climbs out, the two now walking side-by-side to the University entrance. The institution was quite an impressive structure, its architecture emulating the smooth and clean curves of the neo-futuristic style the rest of the city proudly flaunted. Angela looks up with a sense of awe and respect for this state-of-the-art institution, excited for what she might see inside and briefly forgetting the woes she voiced, earlier. Nathan glanced around, curious, but not nearly in the same state of awe as the woman beside him.

They walked through the ivory tower's front door and immediately saw the expansive inside of the school, lined with walls that were filled to the brim with bookcases and hallways that led to lecture rooms and laboratories for young, eager minds to learn. Many of those minds meandering about the campus square, some curiously in white long coats.

"It's good to see I dressed properly for the occasion," Dr. Ziegler noted, looking around.

" _Cum Romae esse_ ," Brin iterated as his eyes scanned their surroundings, not noticing the Physician look up at him in frank surprise.

The blonde guest then turned around as she heard someone approaching and saw a young woman, dark-skinned with long black hair. One of the students.

She wore a casual formal dress under a white coat, had glasses over her eyes, and a smile on her face. Calling it a smile would be an understatement; the girl seemed to be beaming.

"Dr. Ziegler!" the young woman greeted proudly with a slight accent, then bowing deeply to the older woman. "Welcome to our city's University! My name is Aida, and might I say I am SO excited to finally meet you!"

"Is that so?" the Doctor asked, second-hand joy making a smile forming on her face, too.

"It's just that- I-I apologize if this seems so forward, but I'm probably your biggest fan!"

Aida started to get giddier, the smile on her lips stretching even further and her body having a hard time to stay still. Bubbling in place. Nathan stood back, just watching the two interact and seeing how this goes. Ziegler probably didn't need a bodyguard to intervene, for the moment.

"I've looked up to you ever since I was a little girl," the student proudly boasted. "When you were still with Overwatch and even after. You were the reason I pursued Medical Technology as my field and I jumped on the opportunity to be your tour guide through my school when it was offered. I-I'm sorry if I'm being weird, it's j-just so exciting to finally meet you!"

Dr. Ziegler was grinning ear-to-ear, as well, taking the young woman's words to heart. More than flattered by how her actions have inspired this young, eager mind. Seeing how her work has done good even outside of disaster zones. That was one good thing to come out from her time in the old Overwatch. Inspiring many young minds.

"Aww!" the blonde let out, holding her hands to her chest as she tried to contain herself from outright hugging the girl. "It's all right. I'm so glad to hear that! Thank you!"

"Thank you!" Aida responded, a bit meeker as she raised her wrist to reveal a bracelet around it. "Umm… D-do you mind if we take a selfie?"

Angela laughed as she shook her head and got closer to her fan.

"Of course, I'll take a selfie, Aida!"

With that smile becoming even brighter, Aida practically bounced over to Angela and they wrapped their arms around each other, hugging close as Aida raised her wrist. A hologram projected out of a small screen on the watch, revealing an image of them staring up at it with their smiles in full view. The image then flashed, and the sound of a camera shutter played from the watch, simultaneously. Then, they finally separated, still standing close to each other as Aida giddily manipulated her "watch" and examined the picture they had just taken. First happy and excited about her memento, it slowly shifted to confusion as she saw someone standing in the background with a confused look on his face. She spun around to see, now acknowledging the man's presence.

"Oh! Uh… Hi," she awkwardly greeted, embarrassed that she didn't notice the man that was there throughout the entire exchange. "Wow, sorry I didn't see you there…"

"Aida, this is…  _James_ ," Angela introduced the tall man to the young woman, nearly forgetting the alias. "He's my bodyguard. To make sure I'm safe."

Aida stared up at the man, her mouth slightly agape as she saw how large he was.

"I see," the student noted, a bit intimidated by the bodyguard. "Well, it's nice to meet you, James."

"Likewise," he bluntly responded.

"If you don't mind me asking, you didn't happen to visit the… What's the word?... 'Super Human' store, did you?"

That made him react significantly more, jerking his head as he squinted down at her in confusion and slight annoyance.

"No, I haven't… Is it because I'm tall?" he said, more than aware of the reason for why she would ask that.

"That's part of the reason. Erh, sorry for assuming. You probably get that question, a lot."

"James" could only perk his eyebrow further, caught ajar by the conversation.

"So, Dr. Ziegler," the student said, bringing the conversation back on subject. "Shall we get this tour underway?"

Her idol smiled warmly and nodded. "Yes, we shall. And please, call me Angela."

So, Aida gladly began to take them through the innards of her University, barely able to contain her excitement as she was about to present the best of what this campus had to offer to the one-and-only Dr. Angela Ziegler! Also, her bodyguard, James Boone.

She discussed and addressed a myriad of subjects with the Doctor, ranging from University policies to her daily life, inside and outside of the school. Dr. Ziegler was a very pleasant woman to talk to, seeming enamored and genuinely interested in what the student had to say, even slipping some Arabic into their conversation so the two could better interact. Her bodyguard did loom over them, following close to her wherever they went, but that was to be expected and he wasn't overbearing in his presence.

As Aida continued to talk about the University, she had led the two to a large, square courtyard with a circular hole in the middle with glass barriers around it. There were benches around the square, some of them occupied by students who were either socializing or studying. The Sun was shining on the yard as this part of the University was exposed to the outside, but it still maintained a comfortable temperate feeling.

Angela walked over to the hole in the middle and looked over, seeing a dark room with glowing blue hexagons all over the walls and a curving pillar at the center.

"What's this?" the older woman asks.

"This is where we store the school's data files," the student explained, leaning over the barrier with Angela. "It's basically a server room, though it can act like a library where students can access the files for whatever they need."

"Sounds ideal. I'm sure it's used often."

"Like you would not believe!"

Nathan, leaning over as well, noticed how similar the site of the data room looked to what's he's seen before at Big Mountain. Similar in the sense that they were a bunch of hexagons accompanied by a dim blue glow. They were some people below, too, manipulating the hexagons or just chatting on the sides. However, there was one woman in the corner of his eyes, obscured by the pillar in the center. She was attentive to the task at hand, purposefully operating one of the storage units and not paying any mind to the others around her. A familiar orange glow around her eyes and left hand.

' _Vaswani?_ ' he recognized, careful not to announce his confusion. 'What is she doing there?'

Then, without a second thought, the Vishkar Representative completed her task and inserted the unit back into place, before swiftly exiting the room.

Aida then led them outside of the courtyard and brought them further into the campus. As she kept talking, she was unaware that Nathan pulled Angela back a bit to discuss something with her.

"Na- James, is something wrong?" she asked in a hushed volume.

"I saw the Vishkar representative in the server room – Vaswani," he explained, in an even quieter tone. "She was doing something with one of the servers."

"Really? Did she see you?

"Nope. She left the room seconds after I saw her. Looked like she was in a hurry."

"I see. We'll report this to the team when we get back. I'm sure they'll find this interesting."

Not paying attention to what was in front of her, she bumped into something with enough force to make her lose her balance and fall backward. Luckily, her bodyguard caught her and she quickly gained a semblance of herself. Rubbing her forehead, she looked to the ground and saw the thing she bumped into was the Vishkar employee they were just discussing, having come out of stairwell that led into the ground. Aida was by the Architect's side, trying to assist her.

"Oh, Ms. Vaswani!" Angela exclaimed, her eyes becoming wide as she went over to help. "I'm so sorry! I was distracted and I didn't-"

"Please," Satya stopped her, holding up her gloved hand and getting up without Aida's or Angela's help. "I am quite fine, Dr. Ziegler. Thank you for your concern. Now, if you'll excuse me."

As fast as she bumped into Angela, Satya swiftly went on her way and brushed past the two and disappeared into a hallway. Not even giving a second glance.

Nathan and Angela exchanged glances, more than curious to see what all of that was about.

Then, he noticed a gentle electric humming coming from his left. Looking down to his waist, he sees a strange robot hovering up to his left hand. Its eyes showering his Pip-Boy in a blue light.

"What the…?" he let out, seeing a robot he's never seen invade his personal space.

His right ear perked and looked up to see another one hovering right to his face, its eye staring at him straight in his. Immediately affronted by this, he arches back and tried to scoot away from the machine, but it only floats closer to him as he tries. Nathan notices in the corner of his eye that Aida looking back at him, also witnessing something she wasn't expecting. A few other passersby even stopped in their tracks and watched what was happening. Making it blatantly clear this wasn't normal.

The drone close to his face then began to shower his face in a blue light, blinding him and irritating him until he had enough and forcefully pushed the drone away.

"Fuckin' bloatflies," he snarled under his breath, treating them like pests as he made the drone scanning his face tumble through the air with a hard shove before it stabilized itself.

The drone scanning his wrist was also brushed to the side, the Pip-Boy's casing making contact and sending it away with an audible clank as he pushed it. It got upturned, its body becoming wobbly before stabilizing in the air and stared at the Waster. He was about to punch it in the face to drive the point home, but it finally floated away, as if it was not phased from the encounter.

Aida ran up to him, worried and confused about what just happened. More so than what happened moments earlier, with the Vishkar lackey.

"I'm so sorry!" she said to him, pleading for forgiveness. "They've never acted like that, before!"

"Really?" the bodyguard questioned. "You sure they're not programmed with personal space in mind?"

"Well, I've never seen them act like that before. That is the first time I've seen them scan a person. They're only supposed to catalog the books."

Nathan's gaze widened slightly when she said, glancing down to his Pip-Boy for a second. It seems the drones found something interesting about him, so much so that it warranted a scan. He could understand why one would scan his Pip-Boy but not why one scanned his face. Unless their scans could go skin-deep.

"Let's just hope it doesn't happen, again," he wished, softening his expression.

"Yes," she agreed, a bit flustered and trying to save face for not just her but the school. "I'll have to report this to the robotics department. I'm sure this will be something they'd like to know. Please, let's go on with the tour."

* * *

Finally, after a few more buildings and rooms to visit, their tour had ended at the University and Aida led them back outside to the school's entrance to see a limousine already waiting for the woman she had the honor of meeting. With a gracious hug, the older woman said her goodbyes to the young student.

"Thank you so much for touring me through your University, Aida," Dr. Ziegler expressed her gratitude, hugging the young student tight.

"You're welcome, Angela!" Aida reflected the generosity. "I can't wait to see you again at the banquet. Have a good night!"

With their final exchange of the day, they separated, and Angela walked to the limousine where Nathan was already waiting. Opening the door for her and climbing in after her, the car sped off into the highway and back to their hotel. On the ride back, Angela let out a deep sigh of relief, finally able to catch a breather.

"A moment to enjoy some peace and quiet," she admitted, before a small, disappointed smirk formed on her lips. "Probably just a moment, though."

"Well, if we don't consider what just happened with Vaswani, that is," Nathan remarked, already helping himself to the limo's refreshments. "Could be something, or could be nothing."

"I'm aware of that. Hopefully, the others can help clue us in."

As she reclined further into the leather seat and tried her best to take a breather, a grumbling noise suddenly rang from Nathan's side, making the man bring an arm to his stomach. He growled a bit, annoyed by the sound and sensation with how loud it was. Angela raised an eyebrow, before looking down and feeling her own stomach feel a bit empty.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"Yeah," he responded, gulping down a glass before continuing. "Wouldn't happen to know any place to grab some grub, would you?"

She smirked as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, manipulating the holoscreen with her fingers.

"I think I might."

Coming off from the freeway, their limousine had driven up not along the front of their hotel but a restaurant that was close by. It was nighttime when they had reached the city center, the gold-yellow holographic sign above the entrance seeming bright and inviting in the relative dark.

The car's door opened, Angela climbing out and the light from the restaurant bouncing off her fair skin. Nathan climbs out after her and is also greeted by the golden sign hanging above the entrance. His eyes glinting with interest in the glow.

The Californian followed the Swiss woman into the restaurant, darkness soon being replaced by the well-lit walls. Like almost every other building they've walked into in this city, the interior of this restaurant was wide and open, high to the ceiling. What immediately struck him was the aesthetic, how clean and tidy everything was, even more so than the laboratory they had just visited. Neo-futuristic tables decorated with equally fancy dinnerware, Omnic waiters in suits floating like Zenyatta in between them. Well, half-suits as the waiters didn't have legs. That struck him the most.

"This place sure is fancy," he observed, also noting how much he and the doctor stood out from the other patrons. Mainly him, really. "You sure we're supposed to be here?"

"I have an idea…" was all the blonde said as she went up to the podium where the restaurant greeter was.

The greeter, who was also a legless Omnic, was looking at the ledger on his desk before he looked up and regarded the approaching woman. Before Angela could even get a word out, he spoke up.

"Oh my, Dr. Angela Ziegler!" the Greeter exclaimed, clasping his metal hands together. "Welcome to the  _elBuffi!_  We have been expecting you."

"Have you?" the guest asked, acting a bit coy.

"Well, to be truthful, we weren't sure whether you would be visiting this establishment. I know you have been quite busy with your business around Oasis, but the Ministries have requested that we reserve a spot for you, just in case. It seems their wisdom hasn't failed us, yet again. Would you like a table?"

"Yes, I would. For me and my friend, here."

"Wonderful! Follow me, madam and sir."

The Omnic Greeter grabbed two menus from his podium before he turned and led them to a table. It was like the others, white and sleek with a black top, with chairs that complimented it. It only had two chairs, however, Nathan occupying the one closest to the wall and Angela occupying the opposite. The chair was a good size for him to rest on, but the rather foreign design let much to be desired for the lofty man. The Greeter gave them their menus.

"We have an excellent selection for you, today, here at  _elBuffi,_ " he said, hands folded behind his back. "Would you like to order your meal for the evening, now? Or would you like an appetizer to occupy you as you wait for the main course? I highly suggest the olives."

"Anything to drink?" Nathan was the first to ask, and of course, about the beverages. "Alcoholic, preferably?"

"We have a fine selection of wines and spirits."

"Your hardest liquor, then."

Nathan gave a small smirk up at him, then noticing Angela giving him a waggish look.

"I'll have some water," was all the Doctor ordered.

The greeter left, soon attending to other errands.

The usually basic Wastelander found himself looking around, taking in more of the establishment from the chair he was in. Constantly fidgeting on it.

"So, how did you know that would work?" he asked, leaning onto the table to speak to the blonde sitting across from him.

"I didn't," she honestly answered, taking off the white coat to reveal her orange shirt's sleeves that she proceeded to fold up to her elbows. "Since the Ministries have been treating me the way they have been, I figured they would have taken every possible outcome into account. They are scientists after all. And as you said, they are not really sparing any expense having me here."

"At least this is paying off more than the mission. Well, it will when I get my liquor."

"And while we wait, maybe we can chat some more?"

The Courier's eyes snapped to the Doctor, giving her a bemused expression. He smirks and let out an amused huff, crossing his scarred arms as he leans back into his chair.

"Jeez, you're still going to rag me about that?" he asked, not to be demeaning but astonished at her tenacity.

"Why not?" she innocently shrugged, a shrewd smile on her face. "We have time to kill. Hakim can wait, can he?"

"I'm sure Morrison and the Amari's would take exception to that, but fine. We're here, and it's a free wasteland."

Angela's manicured brow perked, a bit surprised how easy it was to coax him into talking unlike the previous times back at the base. The brooding man must've been starting to lighten up, with her at least. She might need to talk to the others about Nathan when they get back to Gibraltar. However, she wasn't sure how she would be able to converse with Bastion about their mutual acquaintance. Still, it was a welcomed change of pace for the blonde field medic.

"For starters, one thing I would like to know is how do you know Spanish?" she asked, the question gnawing at her since the day before. "Or Latin for that matter. I assume foreign language classes are not that existent in the Wastes?"

"Not really," the Courier responded, matter-of-factly. "Not a lot of people can travel the vast distances needed to speak another language. Spanish, at least. No, I learned bits of it from a friend I traveled the Mojave with for a time. He was born in Mexico, before the war."

"Before the war?" Angela questioned, a bit astonished before she began thinking back to the interrogation. "Was he one of those…  _Ghouls_ , you told me about when we first met."

"Yup, he's still kicking, last I checked."

"I see. What about the Latin? Few people, even today, can speak it."

That incurred a peculiar response in the bearded man, making him squint at the blonde woman. As if he had a hard time believing that statement.

"Really?" he earnestly questioned. "Huh. Well, Latin was just a random hobby I picked up when I was younger and didn't have anything better to do around the old village. Reading books and watching old holotapes. Helped that I also traveled with a friend with a similar interest in the dead language."

"He knew Latin, as well?" she asked, her mind twitching with the information she jotted down onto her holopad some time ago. "Was he a part of that 'Caesar's Legion' you described?"

The New Californian instantly burst into laughter, his head bowing forward as his chest shook. Feeling some of the tremors reverberate through the table. Honestly, that kind of caught her off-guard.

"No," he answered, shaking his head, and still smiling. "He was not! In fact, he was  _very_ adamant about not being associated with the Legion when I asked about where he learned Latin. He hated them. That being said, when it came to the Legion, speaking Latin proved to be more than helpful."

"How so?"

"Plenty of Legionaries spoke Latin, sometimes better than English. I even met a lot of slaves who could only speak Latin. Hell, my Latin's probably better than my Spanish since I only ever spoke that language with just one person."

"Maybe I could help you practice? Keep your wits sharp?"

He looked at her with an astonished look.

" _¿Tu hable español?_ " he questioned in his old friend's tongue, a bit rough as he hasn't spoken it in a while.

" _Si,_ " the Swiss woman responded in the same language, the words soon rolling off her tongue with ease. " _También hablo francés, árabe, alemán y inglés._  But you already knew that last one, did you?"

"Huh. You're certainly better at it than I am."

Their exchange was then interrupted when an Omnic Waiter floated to their table with a tray in hand, carrying glasses with a pitcher of ice-cold water and a bottle of whiskey with a shorter glass. The waiter poured Angela a glass of refreshing water and Nathan a glass of liquor, the caramel colored liquid mixing with two big cubes of ice. After pouring their drinks, the waiter bowed and left. Nathan watched him float away, curious as to why these Omnics were different from the ones he's seen so far. Was it necessary to have them without legs? He also noticed that throughout their entire trip, he didn't see that many Omnics, in comparison to what he saw in King's Row. Puzzled, his eyes followed the waiter, making his way to the kitchen. However, the bodyguard's eyes stopped tracking the waiter and landed on the opposite corner of the room, on a table with two occupants. Something wasn't right about them.

They were dressed largely in dark clothing that obscured most of their bodies, one in a hoodie while the other was in a cap and glasses. They were not locals, and while the restaurant also had other tourists, they stood out from not what they did but what they were not doing. They weren't conversing, they were barely moving, and they weren't even eating anything. Their table void of anything but glasses of water. The bodyguard occasionally spotted the one with his back to them occasionally glance over his shoulder and to their side, but couldn't tell if they were looking at him and Angela. After observing them for a few more moments, noting more odd behavior, he leaned towards her.

"Don't look, but there are two guys at the opposite corner of the room," he explained, not breaking eye contact with her. "And I don't think they're supposed to be there."

Her blue eyes widened in surprise, darting to the right side of her head but restrained herself from turning her entire head.

"Really?" she asked, hoping for confirmation. "How are you so certain?"

"They're acting funny. They're dressed suspiciously. They're only drinking water. And one of them keeps glancing over here for some reason."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Well… We could wait and go about our meal until one of them tries something. Or we could leave and get back to the hotel. It's not far is it?"

"No, it's only a few blocks away."

After she mentioned that, the man in the ball cap got up from the table and started walking. Nathan's eyes followed him until he walked out one of the side doors and disappeared out of view.

"Okay, one of them just left," he noted, feeling his back tense. "Don't know if he left to piss or something else. So, what now?"

"I think we should leave," Angela directed, as she put her coat back on. "A shame, but we need to inform the others."

"…Well, that was quick."

"Better safe than sorry."

They got up, Angela barely touching her water while Nathan took a quick gulp and swallowed the fiery liquid. The Doctor went over to the Greeter.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid we have to leave right now," she said to the Omnic, not wanting to seem rude. "Something has come up and I have to attend to it."

"Oh?" the Greeter questioned, expressionless but sounding disappointed. "I'm so sorry to hear that. You haven't even tried the olives!"

"Maybe next time. Please, put it on the Ministries' tab!"

She looked back to Nathan and gestured to him, wanting to get a move on.

They walked out onto the city streets, the cold air the first thing to greet them, even in a desert. Unfortunately, there was no limousine waiting for them at the curb and they would have to resort to walking back to the hotel. It wasn't far, but the distance was the least of their concerns.

"You lead the way," her bodyguard instructed, patting the back of his waist to make sure his carry gun was there. "I'll look out for you."

"Thank you," she gratefully acknowledged.

"Thank me when we're at the hotel."

They began to walk the stretch, Angela's heels clopping hurriedly against the sidewalk as Nathan stayed close behind, his head on a swivel. There were some other pedestrians that occupied the night with them, either strolling by their lonesome or chatting with others along the shops. It wasn't crowded, which should make spotting out any suspicious persons easy. It also meant they didn't have a lot to hide behind and left them out in the open. Underneath tall structures that loomed over them.

They had crossed the first stretch of sidewalk, the shops shining their lurid colors over them along with the clean street lights. Walking through a set of large archways and down a set of stairs, they were now in a wide-open courtyard, circular in shape with a domed structure in the middle. It was sparse with people, provided little cover, and they had to choose which direction to take now. There were a set of stairs on the left, the right, and straight past the dome cylinder. Maybe they could lose possible pursuers through one of these routes? Or walk directly into a trap? It was foreign territory for the two of them, so they weren't sure.

Before her bodyguard was about to provide input, the Doctor turned and walked towards the set of stairs to the left. He bounded over to her, not really questioning her motives.

"We can take a shortcut through here," she explained in a hushed volume. "I believe there is a jump-pad here we can use to cut through the building."

"A what?" he asked, his eyes scanning the roofs for unnatural silhouettes. Making a mental note to be especially of anything with a tinge of purple.

As they rounded a corner, the sight of a golden hexagon on the floor that sent rings of light into the air answered his question. The walls that surrounded it also glowed gold patterns and hummed with power.

"I think you should go first," Dr. Ziegler offered, gesturing to the pad. "Check to see if it's clear. You should be able to just step on it."

"And?" the Waster asked, hesitant to see what would happen.

"You should go up."

Nathan squinted his eyes at her, unsure if that was deliberately facetious. Turning to the jump-pad, he walked forward, not even two steps in before he felt his body become lighter and flying. The pad makes a mechanical noise as it flung the man up, his arms flailing and trying to level himself with the ground. The air rushing around him as he fell onto the concrete walkway, landing on all fours with a grunt. It wasn't hard, but it wasn't the softest landing he could've hoped for. Quickly getting up, he looks and scans the surrounding area and finds that they are also alone on this walkway.

"No one's here," he called back to her.

A moment later, the jump-pad hummed, and Angela flew up but landed much more gracefully onto the platform than the Waster.

Taking the lead once more, Angela began walking across the platform and led them to a door on their left. In another building and out of the open, they walked through the halls without paying much mind to the interior surroundings. The blonde polyglot spotted a sign with the word "Exit" in Arabic with a diagram of stairs. She pointed to it, Nathan opening the door and peering inside before signaling it was clear. They then climbed down three flights of stairs and rapidly reached the exit, which had led them through a door that took them back out onto the sidewalk, where the stores were established. Which also meant they were close to the hotel. They walked through, bounding over the sidewalk and not heeding any mind to what the bright lights had for them. The bodyguard and the charge were out in the city streets, again, but their hotel was much closer and in view. Beckoning them to come to its shelter. With one final stretch, they walked side by side, Angela fixated on the hotel entrance and Nathan keeping his hand close to his waist. It was a strange feeling, her heart thumping and her feet springy, as she walked in what was scientifically proven one of the safest cities in the world. She hoped it was nothing but paranoia getting to her, getting caught up in the moment because of the concerns of the man beside her. However, in the back of her mind, she couldn't doubt that there was the possibility that she was genuinely in danger. The man next to her was much better at hiding the anxiety, seasoned enough to not let his demeanor break. Vigilantly watching over the Doctor.

The two were now a mere twenty meters away from the entrance, their salvation almost at hand. However, Nathan noticed one of the strange looking cars was parked at the front of the hotel, right in front of the entrance. It had not moved since they got out of the stairwell and he couldn't see if there was anyone inside because of the tinted windows. They were now a mere five meters out from the hotel entrance, closing in fast. Right about as it looked they were in the clear, the sound of a car door opening made the Courier spin his head around and whip his hand to the back of his pants. Angela stopped as well, peering from Nathan's arms as he shielded her with his body. Everything seemed to slow down as the door was swinging open, the Wastelander getting ready to hurl a wall of .45 ACP towards the tiny, snail-like car. As the door opened, and light flooded out, it revealed a frail, old woman in a modest dress and gray hair tied into a bun.

The Courier exhaled out of relief and slight embarrassment, watching the old lady slowly get out of her ride before wrapping his left arm around Angela and guiding her into the hotel. Crossing the lobby and not even addressing the receptionist's desk, they made it into the elevator and felt it move as Angela swiftly slipped the keycard into the slot.

Finally, after holding it in for ages, the blonde let out a deep sigh. Relieved and comforted she would at least be back to the fluffy clouds of her suite's bedroom. She opened her eyes and looked up at her protector, seeing him pinch the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut.

"Guess we're ordering room service," he lamented, letting go of his nose to address Angela. "Sorry, about that."

"It's fine, Nathan," she reassured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for thinking about my safety."

"I might've overreacted. This whole 'Hakim thing' and the business with Vaswani is probably making me jumpy. At least the suite's bar will keep me-"

The elevator's door dinged, notifying they had arrived at the suite. As the lift's door slid open, they were immediately met with a cold gust of wind. Almost instantly, Nathan pulled out his .45 and flipped the safety off, knowing there was something out of the ordinary. Angela got behind him, reaching into her bag and pulling out her Caduceus Blaster. The pistol-wielding man casting a curious glance, wondering how long she had that.

The Courier slowly got out, motioning to the woman behind him to stay before walking out into the suite. Some lights were on, but it was still dim to where he could barely see around him. Up ahead, he noticed one of the doors that led to the balcony was wide open, the curtains swishing from the wind blowing in. He slowly approached them, wondering why they were left wide open. Where was everyone else? Had Morrison and the Senior Amari left for late-night reconnaissance? Where was Fareeha?

The door to the hallway on his right opened, Nathan swiftly turned with his muzzle at the ready. A wrinkled eye with a tattoo under it greeted him.

"Jesus Christ," Nathan muttered under his breath, flipping his pistol's safety on before holstering it. "What're you still doing here? I thought you were going to patrol the city?"

Ana merely stared at him, decked out in her gear and with the mask upturned to reveal her withered visage. The Sniper had her arms crossed over her chest, giving the Waster an unimpressed expression.

"We did," she explained, pointing a gloved thumb behind her. "We found something interesting."

She turned around and walked into the hallway, prompting Nathan and Angela to follow her. Going down the hall, Ana had brought them to a set of doors that led to the "game room" of the suite and opened it for the two. Revealing the room, some of the furniture and tables were moved to the sides and in the center, was a man in a gray uniform bound to a chair and gagged with duct tape. Morrison and Fareeha were inside the room as well, keeping an eye on the man. Angela gasped and held a hand to her mouth, while Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"I see that someone has better luck than us," he observed, getting closer to the gagged man, and crouching to look at his face. "Who's he?"

"A Talon operative," Morrison stated, under the mask. "He doesn't bear any of their markings, but his uniform and the equipment he was hauling with him match to a T."

"What the hell was he doing when you found him?"

"Spying on you and Ziegler."

The Soldier then passed a set of binoculars, Nathan catching it and examining it before looking back at the man in the chair.

"And I thought our side had something," he quipped. "You got anything out of him?"

"No, he's been knocked out ever since we found him," Ana explained, walking past Nathan and to the tied-up Talon agent. "Though, we're sure he has very interesting things to say. What about you? Find anything useful, for once?"

Nathan stood up and cast a glance to Angela, the two instantly recalling what happened.

"We spotted Satya Vaswani of Vishkar at the University," Ziegler explained, addressing the other agents in the room. "Nathan spotted her doing something in the school's server room. She left in a hurry, even after I accidentally bumped into her. We don't know what she was doing at that University."

"Vishkar, huh?" Morrison questioned under his mask, saying the name with disdain. "I've seen what they did in Brazil. Whatever reason they have for being in Oasis, it's nothing good."

"Do you think they may have anything to do with Hakim?"

The Agents looked around, trying to find input in each other's expression.

"Doubtful," Ana answered, leaning her back against a pool table. "Hakim has a lot of connections, but none with the megacorporation. Talon on the other hand… Might. Thankfully, we have this prisoner. We just need to interrogate him, and it shouldn't take long."

The Courier stepped forward, his grabbing the unconscious man by the chin and propping his face up, examining his features.

"Well, if you ever need any help extracting information," he offered, letting go of his head and letting him slump forward. "I might know some techniques that could help."

Ana regarded him, not out of graciousness, but of suspicions.

"Like what?" she questioned, her eye judicious.

"Prodding him in the rights spots, for starters," he merely stated, crossing his arms over his chest. "With the time we have, this could be our quickest option."

"We're not here to torture people or cause unnecessary suffering! Besides, we're in a hotel. Someone would be able to hear his screams if you're suggesting such things."

"Not if we gag him."

Ana's face visibly hardened when he said that, not very fond of the idea of making the man suffer when there were clear alternatives that could produce the same results. He may have been Talon, and they may have been here to fight them, but she wasn't willing to go down that road. She never was. The Old Sniper was about to give the man the Wastrel a piece of her mind before her daughter stepped forward.

"I think we should try Mum's approach, first," she mediated, noticing the tension between the two bubble up in such a short amount of time. "It's cleaner and won't draw as much attention, as she said. It shouldn't take long for her to get what she needs, knowing her."

"Your prisoner," he relented, holding his hands up in surrender. "We still have one more day to find Hakim. So, we need to be quick."

He looked back at the older Amari, who still regarded him with a callous stare. Nathan returned the gesture.

* * *

Big Mountain Research and Development Center

2285

The rescuers and the rescuees were assembled out in front of the Antennae Array, the sky beginning to get brighter in color to indicate that dawn was fast approaching. It was still dusk, though, and the only other sources of light were the sensitive blue glows from the surrounding structures or the rainbow of colors the dormant scientists were emitting.

Since hauling them back by hand would be a pain, Boone was currently tying every one of the scientists into a chain with some rope, then attaching the rope to two of the three surviving Robo-Scorpions to act as makeshift Brahmin. Mechanical scorpions probably had a ton of benefits over the two-headed bovines. As he did so, Veronica hanged back and was sitting down by the Array's front door, accompanied by Cooper.

The Scribe was clearly shaken from her encounter with the tall robot on top of the satellite, with how close she came to be being at the mercy of the machine. In all her time with the Brotherhood and travels with the Courier, she had never seen such a specimen. Especially one so human-like, yet at the same time so…  _Alien_. It's design and construction making it seem as if it was from a different world. That didn't explain how it spoke to her in English, cold and calculating in its tone. Playing down its intent to kill her behind technical euphemisms. Its red-eye simply staring at her as it tried to.

The sound of dirt shuffling and a shadow coming over her made her look up to see Parmley going over to her, his right arm now in a makeshift sling from some spare cloth.

"You alright?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"Not really," she honestly answered, breathing in sharply before exhaling. "Nearly got choked to death by some super advanced robot and lost my favorite punching glove. You?"

The Ranger looked at his arm, feeling it sting when he tried to move it the slightest. He was going to have to pay a visit to the metallic doctor right when they get back.

"Not doing too hot, either," he honestly admitted, too.

They sat there in silence, blankly staring at the ground avoiding each other's gaze as their day became more chaotic than they would've liked. Honestly, their whole journey has been getting progressively more chaotic with each passing day, ever since they got Veronica out of the old Mormon Fort.

As much as she hated to admit, slivers of doubt were starting to creep into the back of her mind. Doubts, not just about whether they're going to find Nathan, but if they were going to last in doing so. They had already seen so much more than the average Wastelander and found themselves in two life-endangering situations in just the span of a few hours. And she hated to admit this more so, but Nathan wasn't there with them. He was always the one leading the party, charging into the fights, and exploring the paths ahead. He was the  _Courier_ , and they were just the Company.

'But…' her mind scrambled, trying to keep some semblance. 'Nathan would never say that.'

He always stuck by the few companions he met and befriended, even her.  _Especially_  her. She owed him so much. A lot of people owed him so much. It was only right she repaid the favor, even if it wasn't the first time she had to get his ass out of a sticky situation.

She felt something move between her legs and saw that Cooper went over and poked his head through, looking up at her expectantly. The Follower reached over and started to scratch behind the canine's ear while giving his chin a rub with the other hand. Cooper closed his eyes and let the hands go all over his scalp, enjoying the sensation of his fur and skin being massaged by the fingers and thumbs. Reaching into places he wouldn't normally be able to himself. Soon, the dog's tongue was a hanging freely from his mouth and his tail started kicking up gravel as he wagged it. Seeing Nathan's dog relish in the sensation gave Veronica a little smile to bare, enough to make their situation less gloomy, somewhat. At least all it took for the dog was just a couple pets to make him feel like there's nothing wrong.

However, faint whimpers made her look back down at the dog and see him laying his pointed head on her lap, laying down as if he wanted to rest. Her naked right hand planted itself on top of his furry head and gently stroked him.

"I know, Coop," Veronica said, giving the dog a reassuring palm. "I miss him, too."

The 1st Recon Sniper had finally gotten the ropes tied and the group was heading back to the Think Tank, Boone leading the Robo-Scorps as Veronica and Parmley hung back a bit with Cooper and Rex. They took the more scenic route and looked around their world with more attention to the details, no longer being rushed by a reckless scientist.

The gravel landscape that surrounded them wasn't pretty to look at, marked with mountains and rock formations that weren't easy on the eyes either. Some of them looked like natural formations, created by the shifts of the Earth thousands of years past. Others seemed much more artificial, possibly the works of some of the mechanical brains they were hauling with mechanical scorpions. Other than the rock formations, they were man-made facilities scattered around the crater, some of them appearing dilapidated and out of commission while others were still churning out smoke and emitting a clean blue glow. Their purpose and function eluded them, and speaking from past experiences, none of them were keen to go exploring the Pre-War scientific ruins. Another thing did elude them was why the entire facility was a crater, lacking the mountain in its namesake.

They wondered what it was like for their friend to explore this facility. The secrets he unearthed from this Old World. And whether any of the scars he had on his body were sustained from his time here. Wherever he went, he always brought back the most interesting things.

"Veronica," she heard the man next to her call.

"Yeah?" she responded.

"Is it really true you know nothing about those robots we just fought? Even for a Scribe like yourself."

"Trust me when I say that I have never seen such machines in my life. Not even when I was traveling with Nathan, and we saw a lot of weird stuff, together."

"Where do you think they're even from?"

"I don't know. They're very human-like and act rather human. They even speak English, which was kind of terrifying to hear. But whoever made them must have some serious technology behind them to create things as advanced as those. They couldn't be from here since Klein and Mobius are oblivious to these things."

One of the Robo-Scorps erupted with its speaker.

"PREPOSTEROUS," the voice of the former spoke out. "MY NAME AND THE WORD 'OBLIVIOUS' DO NOT BELONG IN THE SAME SENTENCE!"

That only uttered annoyed groans in Parmley and Veronica, Boone just shaking his head.

The sun was beginning to flood the crater with light, the bright rays illuminating the rather disorganized mess of a facility and all the junk scattered around. As Boone scanned the view ahead, seeing they were getting closer to the big dome Think Tank, the sun was blotted out for a second and he instinctively turned his head to the East, toward a hill. While it was a bit hard to see because of the glaring Sun, he saw the silhouette of something he didn't expect to see in the Pre-War research facility.

"Is that a  _Nightstalker_?" he asked aloud, unslinging his rifle from his shoulder.

Indeed, the four-legged figure on the cliff was a Nightstalker, the body of a coyote standing on the rock with the head of a rattlesnake staring straight at the caravan. Shortly after he spotted it, Veronica ran up to the front and to Boone's side. She let out a dumbfounded huff, instantly remembering how painful their bites were. During and after. Rex was at her side, barking at the hybrid. Then, the lone Nightstalker let out a hiss and ran back behind the cliff, out of their view.

"What is that thing doing here?" the Scribe asked, wondering how it got into this far from the Mojave.

"We should get a move on," Boone suggested, checking his rifle to see if it was ready for use. "There's always a pack nearby."

At least that made sense. Restraining her Scribe mind from investigating further, she got back to the task and soon the whole caravan was moving at a much quicker pace than they were a minute earlier. The dome soon coming into view, thankfully.

Just because Big Mountain had secrets didn't mean they had to go about and finding them all. One secret at a time, lest they want their sanity to be shattered like the rocks. Robots, Lobotomites, and Nightstalkers. At least this place was interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the chapter is basically more exposition/fluff. Things will get spicier, soon. And please, remember to leave reviews/criticisms. Thanks for reading, anyway!


	24. A Banquet for Some, pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! Just wanted a forewarning that like the "King's Row" chapters, this chapter is going to be split into two parts, so it isn't one big chunk of text. It'd be fair to say that I went overboard with this chapter. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

The dark room was deafeningly silent, a man sitting unconscious in the middle. Restrained to a chair, the Talon agent quietly slept, almost seeming serene if it wasn't for the fact that duct tape was plastered all over his face. Then, the door to the room opened, the noise loud enough to wake the sleeping man up.

The man winced and slowly, he began to stir in his chair and lift his heavy head up. His eyelids tiredly parted and blinked multiple times as his vision tried to adjust to the space around him. He could barely see in the darkroom, walls of black surrounding him, barely able to see the faint silhouettes of the furniture moved around him. The only light source in the room being the three glowing blue lines that were right in front of him. Forming an upside-down triangle staring at him.

His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, instantly waking up from his stupor. He looked back to see his hands were tied, fruitlessly trying to shake himself free from the binds. The blue lights only got closer to him, until they were standing right over him. The prisoner looked up at them, his eyes darting around the figure, seeing the hood faintly illuminated by the blue glow. They lowered themselves, the shape getting down to his level. He found himself staring eye to eye with the glowing visor, a million terrified thoughts running through his mind because unlike some other poor saps who would be in his position this Talon operative, unfortunately, knew who was behind that mask.

"Aww, you look tired," a withered, yet motherly voice spoke out from beneath the mask.

Despite the tone of her statement, it was clear that he was terrified, his forehead perspiring and feeling his cheeks heat up where the duct tape smothered it. His eyes darted to the lower-left, seeing something rise from the dark. A hand grabbed the end of the duct tape on his left cheek and swiftly ripped it off, the operative immediately yelling and grimacing as it stung all over his face. He wallowed in pain for a little bit until she spoke up again.

"Oh good, you can speak," the hooded figure dryly quipped before she grabbed the man by the chin and forced him to look up into her visor. "Maybe you would be able to tell me what I need to know, hmm?"

He fidgeted under her scrutiny, trying to figure out something to say. Not break in so easily and falter to the enemy, muster up the resolve to get through this. Talon had a reputation for a reason. One that he wasn't about to tarnish. He hoped he wouldn't, at least.

"I-I know who you are!" he exclaimed, rather proudly but trying not to choke. "Hiding behind that mask won't help you!"

"Really?" she questioned, acting as if she's surprised. "They you won't mind if I take this off, no? It's getting stuffy in here."

That didn't work out how he intended it to. Bringing the same hand she used to rip off the tape up to her face, she then pressed a button, causing the mask to separate into three pieces and retract back into the hood. Two retreating along her cheeks and the main visor retreating to atop her head. However, due to the dark, the man couldn't make out her features. She turned around and went to the door, reaching for something on the wall.

"It's a bit hard to see without the mask," she admitted, her hand patting something alongside the door.

With a click, light flooded into the room from above, blinding him for a second. As he blinked more, wincing from the sudden exposure, he looks up once again to see the Old Sniper standing over him in all her glory. Her eye regarding him with expectancy.

"Now that we're face to face, maybe you could start explaining what Talon's doing here," she suggested, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sure you would have many interesting things to say."

"I'm not going to tell you anything!" the operative responded with, really, the only thing he would be allowed to say in this situation. A cliché, but it made sense.

"I see you want the hard way, then. That's fine."

Her eye glanced to the wall behind him, giving a quick nod. He scowled in confusion, wondering what she was looking at before a red and black blur grabbed him by the throat and threw him and the chair down onto the floor on his back. Recoiling and dazed, he looks up and sees a grizzled, mask man staring down at him with a thin red line for an eye. The man applied pressure to his throat with a boot, the agent making guttural noises as he tried to breathe. She came back into view, looking down at him, too.

"That's enough, Jack," Ana commanded, her old friend regarding her for a second before he lifted his foot throat off his windpipe.

As soon as the sole of his boot was up, the agent started coughing violently and gulping in much-needed air. He felt himself rise as the chair was pivoted up from the floor and back on its front legs. Facing the Old Sniper once again.

"If you know who I am, figuring out who he is shouldn't be challenging," Amari stated, pointing her thumb to the man standing next to her, looming over them. "And he is much less forgiving."

The operative's eyes darted to the Old Soldier, who growled lowly and glowered at him when he did so. He looked back to Ana, a much calmer demeanor on the old woman's face.

"I'm sure you're smart enough to know what you need to do next, dear," Ana calmly said, giving him a quaint smile.

* * *

Oasis, Iraq

2076

It was afternoon in the living room of the Presidential Suite, Fareeha watching the interrogation on her holopad, the audio and video footage being streamed from the point of view of her mother. It had been a few hours when they started the session, the operative thankfully being compliant and making it easier for both parties. While the information he was spilling was somewhat lacking, they weren't sure to chalk that up to lying or ignorance on his part as an operative. Talon had a history of keeping people, even their own personnel, in the dark and giving them only the bare minimum in mission intelligence. Enough to do their job and nothing more. It made dealing with the shady terrorist organization problematic then, and problematic now. Even today, people aren't sure what their motives are supposed to be.

As Fareeha watched the stream, she was going through the captive's backpack, checking the equipment he had with him. The inventory was typical for a field agent, a pair of binoculars, a comms earpiece, a holopad to act as a log, one pistol with a couple of magazines, a canteen, and some snacks. There was also a keycard, but it was blank, and she wasn't sure what it was for. Cracking the pad wasn't hard, but the information it had were only updates of his spying on Angela and Nathan, ever since they came here. The earpiece didn't have any better luck either, as it only led to a dead frequency. It's must've been changed or cut off.

A door opened behind her, and she turned around to see Nathan walking in from the bedrooms, but dressed in a gray suit with a white dress shirt. He was pulling at the collar and rolling his shoulders, uncomfortable in the formal casual wear. Seeing him fidget like that amused the Career-Soldier, somewhat.

"I fuckin' hate suits," the Wastelander muttered under his breath, feeling the fabric chafe.

He spotted Fareeha on the couch, looking back at him. Then noticed the holopad on the table and what she was watching.

"Did your mother and Morrison make any progress, yet?" he asked, getting close to the couch to see it for himself as he still chafed under the shirt.

"Some," she responded, turning her eyes back to the footage.

"That's good to hear," Nathan dryly remarked, leaning onto the back of the couch to watch the show.

"Stop worrying. Mum will get her way. I know she will."

The way she said that didn't entirely convince him.

The New Californian wasn't particularly fond of the Egyptian Soldier on the couch and didn't really care what she thought or had to say, as long as it didn't get in his way. The feelings were mostly mutual from her side. Her mother, obviously, was much more… Apparent with hers. Ana made things very clear between herself and the Waster, and that short little spat they had the night before did little to improve their relationship as co-workers.

However, he still wasn't sure why there seemed to be some friction between the Mother and Daughter. He never bothered to ask about their history, just more concerned with how it could mess things up.

He stopped leaning off the couch and went around to sit down on the adjacent loveseat. Swiping one of the snack bars off the coffee table before he flopped onto the fine cushion, retiring with a groan. Wanting to kill some time.

"I'll be waiting, then," Nathan said, unwrapping the bar and sniffing it, smelling something both salty and sweet. "But we still only have one more night to figure out where Hakim is."

"I know," Fareeha conceded, her head turning slightly to look at the man on the couch. "Isn't it a bit too early to be wearing that suit? You still have some time until the banquet starts."

"Didn't pack anything else to wear, so it was either this or walking around naked. Unless you have a better idea?"

She rolled her eyes at the response.

"Acknowledged," she sighed. "Just be careful not to get any crumbs on your suit. It'll look unprofessional. More so, in your case."

His eyes snapped to her, unsure if that was a joke or a legitimate concern because of her tone. She didn't bother to regard him as her eyes were still glued to the holopad, still maintaining a neutral look. Even as she leaned forward and picked up one of the granola bars, opening the crinkly wrap.

"Thanks for the concern, Security-Chief," Brin returned, waggling his eyebrows. "Surprised you'd care."

"Considering the event you and Angela will be attending is going to be broadcasted worldwide," Amari mentioned rather nonchalantly. "I'm sure maintaining a good public image would be something to worry about."

"Wait, what?"

Nathan sat up, facing Fareeha with a serious expression. His laidback demeanor now diminished.

"'Broadcasted?'" he questioned earnestly, trying to clarify what she meant. "As in, television and the… 'internet' thing?"

"Yes," Fareeha answered, wondering why the Wasteland Veteran seemed so worried until her eyes widened in realization. "Oh…"

With a sigh, the Courier got up and went to the kitchen. A minute later, he came back with a bottle of whiskey and glass with ice in it. Two glasses, in fact.

"Alright," he muttered, sitting down next to her on the couch and setting the glasses down. "Let's discuss the implications this could have."

Before going forward, he uncaps the bottle of caramel-colored liquid and pours it into both glasses, halfway. The ice cracking and the glass fogging as the alcohol washed over.

"First and foremost," Brin started to explain, leaning back and already taking a sip. "That would mean my face - which hasn't been associated with the 'man in black armor' – would be on public display to whoever's watching. Including the people I probably don't want my face to be seen by."

"You're not wearing your black armor, though," Amari replied.

"No, but how many six-foot-six men with RobCo tech hanging around ex-Overwatch personnel can you think of?"

"RobCo?"

"My Pip-Boy. Angela told me mercenaries are always covered in equipment, calling it 'impractical' at times. You were in a security firm, right? How does this look?"

He punctuated the question by lifting his left arm up in the air, brandishing the large wrist-computer attached to it. The glowing amber-screen facing her. While the device itself was new to her, the overall design and shape of it made it stand out from most modern-day, wrist-worn computers. The size and bulk alone really distinguished it from most. Even the ones mercenaries commonly wear. It looked… Rustic. As if the designer decided to go for a more "classic" design.

"It is more… Noticeable," the former-Helix employee observed, looking back to the other pieces of tech on the table. "It would stand out among the crowd. Has anyone noticed it, so far?"

"Two hulking Crusaders back at Germany did," he recalled, thinking back to the newscast that was once the most amount of exposure the world had to him. "The Vishkar lackey looked at it, too, but I don't think she was looking at it because she heard about it on the news."

"So, it would be your 'Pip-Boy', not your face, that would be the damning piece of evidence."

"Most likely."

Hearing that, Fareeha shut her eyes and exhaled briefly as she thought over the implications.

"It wouldn't be just you that would be in the spotlight," the Security-Chief sternly stated. "Angela would, unfortunately, be in it, as well. Guilty by association. That wouldn't bode well for any of us."

"I was thinking about that," he admitted, concerned how it would affect the others. "Any ideas how to avoid this?"

"Why not take it off before attending?"

The Courier was already shaking his head.

"No way," he flat out stated, placing his right hand on the Pip-Boy's hard casing. "This thing's been with me through thick and thin. There's no way I'm willing to part with it. I'd be completely naked at the event without this."

"I see," Fareeha acknowledged, noting how connected he seemed to the device. "I may have an idea, but it will require some work back at Gibraltar."

"How so?"

"Do you remember Hakim's compound? How there were security cameras at the front where all the fighting took place?"

He nodded.

"After we had left and before the U.N. could figure out what happened, Athena was able to set up a connection to the security tapes and distorted them to the point where Angela and I still aren't associated with Overwatch despite video evidence."

"Just you two?"

"McCree was already on everyone's wanted list and you were just a man with a mask. Athena could only do so much with the time she had. It was better than nothing."

"Then what do you suggest happens soon?"

Fareeha looked at her holopad, the gears in her head already turning to figure out a way to cover their tracks in Oasis.

"I can contact Winston and Athena to see if they could do anything about the broadcasts at the banquet. If it's being broadcasted live, that means it will be streamed. Which then means Athena could sever the connection and prevent footage of you and your Pip-Boy being seen with Angela, all over the world. If Athena can do that at all."

"If?"

"She's never done something like this before. So, it's not a guarantee."

"Hmm… It sounds like the best plan we have if there are no alternatives."

"So, it seems."

As her eyes drifted back to the holopad she had noticed the screen had gone black and the transmission was dead. They heard the doors opening and closing behind them at the end of the hallway and moments later, Ana and Jack walked out into the living room. Ana smiling warmly towards her daughter until it shifted into a neutral expression as she saw her sitting next to the Waster. Fareeha stood up while Nathan continued to sit on the couch and drink.

"How was it?" Fareeha asked, going over to them.

"Didn't you see?" Ana asked back, handing her a small camera that was mounted to her chest. "Poor thing tried his best to be helpful but didn't seem too knowledgeable. We couldn't find where Talon's base of operations or what their interest in Oasis was, but he did confirm that Hakim is here."

Hearing the news, Nathan turned around on the couch with a drink in hand, before slumping back into the seat and throwing his head back in bliss.

"Ughhh, fucking finally!" he exclaimed, happy to hear confirmation about why they were in Oasis. "'Bout time!"

The Old Sniper addressed him for a split second before looking back at her daughter.

"But," she started to talk again. "He said Talon is here because something caught their interest. Something scientific, of course. And Angela's invite to the city of Oasis is just a happy coincidence that they wouldn't hesitate to exploit. How? We don't know yet."

"What about Vishkar?" her daughter asked.

"Nothing about them either. It's probably a coincidence that they're here. Still, we should keep an eye on them. For now, we just have the banquet to worry about."

Her eyes darted back to Nathan, who was finishing the last of his drink before standing up and turning around to them. She almost wanted to roll her good eye, seeing that. Wondering why her daughter would choose him to act as Angela's bodyguard for this mission, and how he's succeeded so far. She never was one to judge others so quickly - with the thing's she's seen and been through - but so far, she wasn't impressed with this man. And the Old Overwatch Sniper had a harder time believing the things Winston and Angela told her about him. Even if he had that thing on his arm.

And to think he had the gall to suggest his interrogation "techniques".

"About that," Nathan started, rounding the couch to walk over to them. "What's the next step?"

"There's been a slight change of plans," Ana stated, looking over her shoulder to Jack. "Since this banquet will be a large event with lots of people, it's almost certain Talon will attempt something. So, Jack and I have decided to provide additional watch over the event. In case things do go wrong, we need to make sure Angela is safe."

"What about Hakim?"

"Angela first. Then, Hakim."

"Can't argue with that. Where is Dr. Ziegler, anyway?"

Then, as if on cue, the doors to the hall opened once more and all of them turned to see the Swiss Blonde walk but wearing a luxurious orange dress that went down to her ankles. While the color was mainly orange, it had ornate, branching design that looked like the veins of leaves, in the color of mainly white and gold. A gray cloth with more ornate designs was wrapped around her midsection, and a see-through yellow veil that almost seems to sparkle was around her neck. Her hair was still tied into a ponytail, but she had her halo hovering above her head. Everyone in the room was caught off-guard by the dress.

"Can't wait to be done with this," Angela muttered under her breath, fidgeting with the dress as she walked out. "Sorry, I took so long… Uh, how do I look?"

Ana looked her form up and down and smiled warmly at the sight. Almost forgetting how beautiful Angela looked even when she was getting older. Not as old as her, of course, but it was a good thing to see. She was about to compliment the blonde doctor but got cut-off.

"You look nice, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan complimented from behind, his head tilting as his eyes scanned over her form. "That's a pretty-lookin' dress. Did you bring that with you?"

"Thank you, Nathan. And no. Unsurprisingly, this is another gift from the Ministries. Something to wear to the banquet. It doesn't really seem my type, though…"

"You look fine, Angela," Ana said as she walked up to her, looking down on the dress and fixing the cloth with her hands. "They made the right choice. It fits you perfectly."

"Thank you, Ana."

After regarding the older women with a thankful smile, she looked back up at Nathan with expectancy.

"Shall we get on with this?" the Doctor asked.

"We shall," the Waster responded, going over to the coffee table to pick up some equipment he'll need.

After he did so and was about to make his way to the elevator, he felt something tug on his arm and making him stop. Turning around, he sees the older Amari holding him and looking up at him with a face only a mother could give. To an unruly child.

He can't catch a break.

"Remember, you're watching over Angela," Ana iterated, not breaking eye contact with the tall man. "Don't screw it up."

"I got it," he responded, scowling as he shook his arm free. "What do you think I've been doing for the past two days? I'll keep my eye on her."

"Keep her safe, then, please."

Nathan walked through the door and the two finally departed through the elevator. Ana and Jack gathered their weapons and equipment, making their way to the balcony door. Opening it, a gust of wind blew in and threw the curtains around. However, before leaving Ana looked back to her daughter, who was standing at the balcony's doorway.

"Hold down the fort while we're gone," she requested of her daughter. "Okay, Fareeha?"

"I will Mum," Fareeha responded.

Ana smiled and nodded, activating her faceplate to link and cover her face. She jumped off into the city, and Morrison was about to follow suit until he stopped and looked back at Fareeha. She noticed and gave the old soldier a simple nod. He returned the gesture, long and considerate in his motion, his red eye unwavering as he did so. The Old Soldier soon joined Ana as he jumped off into the dark.

Now alone in the huge hotel suite, Fareeha let out a deep sigh, knowing full well that the night was far from over for her. She looked back to the coffee table and saw the holopad. Walking over, she sat back down on the couch and activated the device, beginning to set up a connection to Gibraltar and inform Winston and Athena of what needed to be done. As she waited for the connection to be established, her eyes drifted to the left and spied the second glass of whiskey Nathan had poured, untouched and the ice cubes frosting the glass.

The Security-Chief regarded it, thinking over the past few days and how…  _Interesting_  things had become for her, for the lack of a better term. She leaned over and wrapped her hands around it, feeling the cold condensation as she lifted it up to her face. Fareeha smelled it, letting the pleasant whiskey aroma fill her nose, before slowly bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. It burned as it went over her tongue, making her wince slightly. She still drank it down, feeling it burn down her throat.

* * *

Once again, Angela and Nathan found themselves in another limousine ride through the city of Oasis, the latter becoming rather accustomed to sitting through a car ride. Rather than staring out the window, however, he was squirming even more with the suit. His brow sweating as he pulled at the collar even more. As his sense of discomfort only grew, he spotted the limo's dock of beverages and thought about taking a drink to relieve some of the pressure. As he thought about it, however, he decided that this time the casual drinker should restrain himself. He had to watch over the woman he was supposed to be guarding. To have complete control over his senses and to be aware of what will be happening. It was a party after all, and while he hasn't attended many, they can be filled with distractions. He didn't know what this world had in store for him this time.

The woman sitting next to him couldn't but help notices him fidget.

"Nervous?" she asked, watching the man shuffle in his seat.

"Nope," he responded. "I just hate wearing suits. Doesn't feel right being in this."

Angela looked down at herself, seeing the dress that enveloped her form.

"Same," the Doctor empathized. "To be honest, I wouldn't even mind wearing my Valkyrie suit just to feel more comfortable."

"Really?"

"Don't get me wrong; This dress is nice, but I guess I'm too used to wearing that suit to even think about putting anything else other than a doctor's coat on."

"Like a second skin?"

"Perhaps. It's proven very effective and invaluable at saving lives. An important tool to have when much of your career is as a doctor, and as a field medic"

The Courier couldn't but help glance at his Pip-Boy as she mentioned the utility and importance of her Valkyrie suit. How she would prefer not to be away from it as much as possible. At least she had her halo, whatever purpose that served.

"Why did you name it that anyway?" Nathan posed, looking up from his Pip-Boy to her. "'Valkyrie'? What is that?"

"Have you not heard of a 'Valkyrie', before?" the Swiss woman asked.

"I think I've heard the name once or twice, but speaking as someone who grew up in an irradiated Wasteland? No, not familiar."

"That's a shame. They're very well-known. Valkyrie's are female figures from Norse mythology, who are said to guide those who have died in battle to a place called Valhalla, where they spend the afterlife."

"'Valhalla'? That sounds familiar. So, they're like Angels? Your suit looks like an Angel."

"Not quite. As they chose who gets to live through the battle, but also who gets to die. Of course, I'd like to avoid that second option as much as possible."

"So, after they take those they chose to this 'Valhalla', what do they do there?"

"I believe they have a feast and drink mead for an eternity."

His ears perked a bit when he heard that.

"That doesn't sound so bad," he said, wondering how mead tastes like. "You seem to know this stuff."

"I read the stories when I was a child. They stuck," she shrugged, not seeing it as a big deal. "And I'm not surprised you seem to know what mead is."

Nathan could only shrug, smirking and seeing the irony.

Suddenly, radio static sounded off in their left ears, followed by the voice of Fareeha. Their impromptu comms officer for the mission. She was fit for the role.

"This is Pharah," she called in, using her call-sign. "Everyone else, check-in."

"Shrike, checking in."

"Soldier, checking in."

"Mercy, checking in."

"Uh… Courier, checking in."

After everyone checked in, 'Pharah' spoke once again.

"All right, I can hear everyone loud and clear," the Security-Chief confirmed. "Be advised, I was able to contact Gibraltar and Athena has agreed to disrupt the broadcasting signals from the cameras that will be present at the banquet."

"What? Why?" Angela questioned, her brow furrowed as she was not familiar with this part of the plan. As well as the Solider and Shrike.

"Na- Courier expressed some concern. That the footage of him with his Pip-Boy may create incriminating evidence not just for him, but for everyone involved in this operation, as well. Thus, as a precautionary measure, Athena is going to establish a connection and temporarily distort the broadcast."

"Couldn't he have just taken it off?" Morrison notified over the comms, his voice sounding more gravely through the device.

"I couldn't. For the same reason you rarely take off that mask," Brin responded.

Ana spoke next, taking the opportunity to express her thoughts.

"If it is vital to the success of the mission and making sure Mercy is safe; So, be it. And whatever Athena is going to do, she better do it soon. I can see their car fast approaching."

Sure enough, Angela and Nathan looked ahead to see that she was right. They were approaching a tall building – one of the taller structures in the city – and at the entrance, there was a huge gathering of people. Spotlights emitting beams of light going high to the sky, and flashes of bright lights appearing at the stop they were approaching. There were crowds of people at the entrance, confined by golden barriers of light that rose from out of the ground. Positioned along those barriers were men in suits, standing idly as everyone else moved around them. They also noticed they were in a caravan of limousines, the automobiles one-by-one dropping off the important figures they were transporting to this event. All of them walking along a red carpet. It was one of the flashiest things the Wastelander has ever seen, and he hasn't even gotten out of the car yet.

"That seems excessive," was all the Doctor could say about the welcoming, astonished at how much of a deal they were making of this event.

"No expense spared…" her bodyguard muttered under his breath, watching as their limo got closer and closer to the venue. "Pharah, how are we on that transmission?... Pharah?"

The response was only silence, their limo only getting closer with every passing second. It got to the point where the limo in front of them had finally dropped off its guest, and theirs was pulling up to the curb. The door getting close to the red carpet. Finally, the silence broke.

"She got it!" Pharah declared, followed by a sigh of relief. "You're good to go!"

Nathan looked back at Angela, who was straightening out her dress and adjusting her halo. She looked up and saw him looking at her. The Doctor gave her bodyguard a simple nod. That was all he needed as he opened the car door. In his left ear, he could hear the faint murmuring of their Sniper. Sounding both playful and serious.

"It's show time."

As the car door hinged outward, Nathan was the first to step out and the first to be blinded by the barrage of lights – flashing or otherwise. It felt like he was back at the Strip. As the sound of a thousand camera shutters flickering pervaded his ear like insects, he got both feet on the ground and turned back to the limo. Seconds later, the guest of honor to the jewel of the desert stepped out of the black limousine and was also showered by the bright lights. If her dress glimmered back at the hotel, it shined out here. They could hear the cameras increase in frequency as she stepped out. After she took a helpful hand from her bodyguard to stand, they spotted the entrance to the building way ahead of them. The red carpet providing the path, of course. "James" looked down to Dr. Ziegler, and with a small smirk, motioned to the red carpet.

"Ladies, first," he offered, still smirking.

"Such a gentleman," the charge commented, before looking ahead and walking forward.

Shutting the door behind him, Angela began to walk across the red, velvety path with Nathan in tow. As they walked, they were still bombarded by flashing lights, but her bodyguard tried his best to focus on the task at hand. His eyes scanned the crowds and tried to spot out anyone that stood out, possibly posing a threat. People with cameras, local bystanders, and tourists populated the crowds gathered. He could feel the eyes on them, mostly directed at Dr. Ziegler, of course. The bodyguard also noticed the people operating the bigger cameras, the ones that need to be on their shoulders, were fiddling with them and becoming frustrated. The Waster could guess what was causing that.

While they continued to make their way down the stretch of the rug, he could hear the chattering of the crowd. Loud and overwhelming because of the numbers. Much of it was in a language he couldn't understand, but he noticed some English in the batch. From fellow tourists, he presumed.

"Look! It's her!"

"I love her dress!"

"Damn, she's pretty hot."

"Where's her Valkyrie suit?"

"She looks shorter in person."

"Is that her boyfriend?"

That last one caught him off-guard, and it took some self-control to stop himself from bursting out in laughter or have a shit-eating grin suddenly appear on his face. He made it through, though, and soon enough they were out of the public view as they went through the main entrance and were in the building's lobby. The other guests were also gathered here, as it seemed they were waiting for the event to start. It was a spacious area and gave everyone enough room to be spread out. Nathan and Angela hanged from the sidelines. Both sets of eyes scanning the crowd.

"Recognize anyone?" the bodyguard asked, his eyes darting place to place.

"No," the charge responded. "I'm sure these people are important, but I can't spy anyone"

She interrupted herself as she spotted a certain young woman approaching her and making her face light up.

"Aida!" she exclaimed, hugging the University student, who was dressed in a sleek black dress. "It's great to see you, again!"

"And you too, Angela!" the young woman returned, breaking away from their hug and standing back to take a good look at her dress. "You look beautiful! I love your dress, and your halo is cute."

"Thank you. At least you seem to like my dress."

"And James, you look pretty snazzy in that suit."

He wasn't expecting a compliment from the young lady.

"Oh, uh, thank you kindly," the Waster still appreciated it, nonetheless. "Excited for the event?"

"I'm excited for Angela!" Aida expressed, a big smile on her face.

Then, they noticed another face approaching them. An older gentleman, wearing a sleek white dress that was like a robe, yet had some ornate, futuristic designs over the cloth. One of the most important figures in this city, one they had seen at the gardens just days earlier

"Oh, Dr. Ziegler!" Dr. Hassoun greeted, grabbing one of her hands and planting a kiss on the back. "You look wonderful! How has everything been so far? We've been planning this event for weeks."

"Well, Ibrahim, you certainly know how to roll out the red carpet. Literally!" Dr. Ziegler stated, astonished by everything she saw up to this moment. "Forgive me, but I imagined the event would've been… Humbler."

"It is a special day, so we must treat it as such. Now, please, Aida will guide you to your table. Let us start the night!"

Saying that Aida held out her elbow for Angela, who chuckled and took it graciously as she linked her arm with hers. Before following them, however, Nathan tapped Dr. Hassoun on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Oh, uh- Y-yes, Mr. Boone?" the scientist let out, wondering what the bodyguard needed.

"Sorry to bother you, Doctor," the bodyguard started. "But as Angela's security detail, I wanted to know if the event will be properly safeguarded. In the case of something happening."

"Of course, Mr. Boone! Everything is in safe hands. The Ministry of Law Enforcement made sure to plan for this event and make sure everything operates as smooth as silk."

Suddenly, "Pharah" spoke out in his left ear, unbeknownst to Hassoun.

"'Ministry of Law Enforcement'?" she questioned, clear that she was confused about something. "I've never heard of that branch. Does he mean the 'Ministry of Public Safety'?"

That sounded questionable, for one of the founding members of this city to not be familiar with its own government.

"N-Nonetheless," Hassoun continued. "As I've stated before, Dr. Ziegler will be safe in Oasis for the duration of her stay. So, please. Relax, grab something to drink. You wouldn't want to stress yourself more than needed, no?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, doctor."

With that, the doctor turned and went to where the other guests were congregating. Making their way further into the building. Nathan couldn't but help notice him pull out a piece of cloth from a pocket and bring it up to wipe his forehead.

With a murmur, he turned around and followed where Angela and Aida went. A door that was different from the ones the other guests were using - Both in placement and direction. After going through and jogging down a few hallways, Nathan finally catches up to the two women having a friendly chat.

"Where were you?" his charge asked, turning her head over her shoulder.

"Had to ask Dr. Hassoun a question," he explained, before regarding Aida. "Where we headed?"

"Backstage," she said. "Angela's table, along with other notable figures, is on the center stage. They thought it would be better if I escorted her to the table from there."

"Isn't theatrics a bit much for a banquet?"

"Maybe."

While they walked further down the hall, another voice crept into Nathan's ear.

"Award ceremonies always try to make a big deal of things," Morrison's gravelly voice spoke over the comms. "Always so flashy and imposing. Might as well forget why you're there with all that grandeur blinding you."

"Soldier, don't ruin this for her," Ana sternly responded, not wanting to hear it. "This may be a mission but it's her night. For now, at least."

They were now at the stage, looking on to see that they were literally center-stage of the event and saw the huge room the banquet was taking place. Decorated tables lined with fine tableware spread all throughout the floor, the walls glowing like sand dunes, and the ceiling high to the sky with grand chandeliers hanging above. The Waster couldn't help but be impressed, especially by the lengths the Ministries went to essentially tell a doctor "thanks".

Aida escorted Angela to one of the two tables on stage, which were long and filled with more fine tableware as a fine white cloth draped over them. The Swiss Doctor was at the center of the table on the stages right. In between the two tables was a podium with a microphone on top. Nathan noticed there were camera crews along the floor, some of them pointing towards the stage. He made sure to stay on the sidelines and out of the spotlight. Literally, in this case.

"Christ that's a lot of people," the Courier muttered, his eyes darting through the crowd. "How are things on your end?"

"Quiet," Shrike replied. "The crowd outside largely dispersed, now."

"Right. Pharah, there are cameras in here. Anything we can do about them?"

"Negative," she replied. "Any more disruptions may raise suspicions. You'll just need to keep yourself hidden from now on."

"Copy, that."

And so, for the ten or more minutes it took for everyone to get settled and for the event to finally start, Nathan stood by the curtains. Hiding in the shadows. He felt weird, just creeping in the corner like a weirdo. Didn't help that he had to keep a constant eye on the Doctor.

"Champagne, sir?"

The bodyguard looked to his right to see an Omnic waiter that had come out from the back with a silver tray of champagne on his left hand. This Omnic, like the ones at  _elBuffi_ , also had no legs.

He looked at the alcoholic beverages, seeing the golden liquid bubble as condensation frosted the glass. The avid drinker was tempted but had already decided to abstain from the liquid depressants.

"No, thanks," he said, passing on the offer. "I'm good."

"Very well, sir," the waiter acknowledged, before floating on and offering the drink to guests at the table.

Nathan looked ahead and saw they were many more of the waiters on the ground floor, serving the many guest and patrons with alcoholic beverages or cooked meals. The Courier tried to spot out the faces of the people, nothing really standing out from a few of them. He also noticed they weren't a lot of Omnic guests, either.

He looked to the table on the stage, seeing Angela again chatting more with Aida who sat next to her. Hassoun was also sitting on stage at the other table, but just minding his own business. However, he noticed another familiar face sitting at the end of that table.

'Vaswani,' he recognized, not really surprised to see her here of all places. 'Who's that next to her?'

Sitting next to her was a man, brown hair and with lighter skin. He must've been Vishkar, as well, as his uniform was like the woman sitting next to him. However, as the man was idly chatting with someone next to him, Satya only sat there staring down at her feet. Not even attempting to regard anyone else.

"Heads up," the Courier said, bringing a finger to his ear. "I spotted Satya Vaswani at the banquet, literally sitting a table away from Mercy. There's a man with her, too. Brown hair, olive complexion. Know him?"

He could hear someone typing into a holopad as he said that.

"Yes, I think I know who you're talking about," Pharah stated. "Sanjay Korpal, another Vishkar representative. Also, oversaw the company's contract in Rio before that fell apart. Recently, he's been named in a recent scam involving LumériCo in Mexico."

"LumériCo?" Soldier's voice spoke out, sounding surprised. "I knew they were up to something. I never thought it would be with Vishkar, though."

"Nonetheless, keep an eye on him. His presence here cannot be a coincidence."

The Courier acknowledged that last transmission and went back to keeping a watchful eye on the two Vishkar lackeys. While also trying to keep a watchful gaze over Angela. She seemed fine for the most part. Happily chatting with Aida. Then, he noticed the lights around the banquet hall began to dim. Not to complete darkness, but just enough for everything to still be visible. Then, the noise from the crowd lessened, to where there was only faint murmuring until complete silence. Finally, a woman's voice echoed through the hall, possibly from a speaker system.

"Ladies and gentleman, Dr. Ibrahim Hassoun!"

With a raucous applause, the hall echoed as Dr. Hassoun got up from his chair and walked over to the podium. Waving to the crowd as a spotlight followed him. Even when he did reach the podium, the crowds still cheered and clapped for almost half-a-minute for the scientist until they settled down.

"Thank you, and welcome!" he started, speaking into a microphone that amplified his voice. "As some of you may have realized, my name is Dr. Ibrahim Hassoun: co-founder and scientist to this beautiful city in the desert, aptly named 'Oasis'."

That resulted in more applause and cheering from the crowd. Hassoun waited for it to die down before he spoke again.

"But, if it hadn't been for the collective genius and effort of some of the world's most brilliant scientific minds, Oasis would not be one of the most advanced cities in the world. A city that is innovating on the disciplines of technology, biology, physics, and genetics to name a few. Disciplines that our very Ministries work tirelessly to study, research, and test. For the betterment of not just our city, but of –"

"He sounds more like a politician than a scientist," the Courier grumbled under his breath as Dr. Hassoun continued to speak. His speech slowly becoming white noise.

"He wouldn't be unique," the Soldier concurred. "They always try to make everything sound so positive and swell, rather than telling how grueling and dirty the work can actually be. Trying to fool everyone… Seen it countless times."

"Trust me, I'd know the feeling. Their heads might as well be indistinguishable from their asses."

"Ain't that the truth."

An Omnic waiter holding an object with a golden rectangular base floated to Dr. Hassoun's side. On the base, was a crystalline statue of a staff that was being encircled by a single serpentine creature that twisted up to the top, its head at the tip of the rod. Upon closer inspection, it appeared the rod and the snake wasn't connected to the base but was floating above it. The Wastelander wondered why almost everything hovered in this world.

"Today," Hassoun spoke again, taking the object from the Omnic and holding it up in the air. "We honor the discipline of medicine because with us we have a very special guest and a very, very brilliant mind to celebrate this banquet to. Hailing from Zürich, Switzerland, she became a head surgeon at one of the nation's most prominent hospitals and eventually pioneered a breakthrough in nanobiology, changing the face of medicine as we knew it. Due to these achievements, she was recruited into Overwatch, during the 'Golden Age', where the organization led the world in scientific advancements. The field of medicine, of course, being one of them. Even after the organization faded away, she, driven by compassion and selflessness, and donning her angelic Valkyrie suit, went to where a doctor was needed most: Areas struck by disaster, poverty, and war. She tended to the sick and dying, the old and young, the rich and poor. If they needed medical attention, she would be there. So, without further ado, please welcome the brilliant and beautiful Dr. Angela Ziegler!"

As soon as the words left his mouth the entirety of the hall broke out into thunderous applause. Almost rocking the entire building and make it feel like it was about to collapse. Nathan looked to the far-left and even saw Satya clapping, though she seemed not as enthusiastic about it as everyone else.

The Doctor stood up from her chair and walked to the podium with the spotlight now on her. Her dress glistening even more in the bright light. Now reaching the podium, she took the award in her hands and exchanged kisses on the cheeks with the older gentleman. He walked back to his chair and left Angela at the podium, who also had to wait half-a-minute for the crowd to be done with their applause for the Swiss Physician. After the almost deafening clapping and cheering finally subsided, did Angela take the time to pull out her holopad and speak into the microphone.

"Well, I'm sure we're all in agreement that no one could certainly ask for a better welcome," she stated, resulting in a collective laughter from the guests.

"But, jokes aside, it is an absolute honor and privilege to be invited to this beautiful city and to be awarded for the work I have done, not just as a doctor, but as a caring and selfless human being. Something that we can all strive for, even today. Even though I am receiving the award, there were many people in my life who I should thank for the path that led me to this career. First, I would like to thank my parents that, even though they have been gone for most my life they have taught and instilled the values of compassion, generosity, and peace. I would like to thank the rest of my family for taking care of me and being there to make sure I did not grow up alone. I would like to thank the professors and tutors who were astute in their instruction and helped me carve my career path and pursue medicine as my passion in life. I would like to thank the staff members, nurses, medics, relief workers, and volunteers who have assisted me in providing aid to those who need it most around the world, putting in hours of hard and diligent work, even if it seemed like an impossible task at times. And…"

She paused for a second as if she was unsure if she wanted to read the next few lines on her screen. The pause didn't last long, though.

"I would even like to thank the people I had the pleasure of working and researching with during my time in Overwatch. Despite that I never really saw eye-to-eye with Overwatch's leadership, I still learned invaluable things and accomplished incredible feats with the organization. Many of its former members I'm not afraid to call friends even after it was disbanded. One thing that I am proud to have learned in my time in Overwatch is that my research and work have not only saved lives but have helped inspired many others to follow a similar goal in the hopes of helping people. Especially the young eager minds who go through sleepless nights of fervent study and revision in hopes of finding a breakthrough as significant as my findings in nanobiology."

With a smirk, she looked over her shoulder to her biggest fan. Who was grinning madly when she heard that.

"And really, inspiring one life can be as valuable as saving one. As they may go on to save lives, as well. So, please, do not just hold this banquet in my honor, but also in the honor of those who are pursuing and seeking the methods of making life more forgiving in what may seem like harrowing times. Thank you, and have a great night!"

As she signed off, the crowd roared into a standing ovation. People cheering and clapping for the award recipient. Even Nathan felt an inclination to join in even though he was hanging back.

"Wow," he said, over the loud roaring of applause. "That was something."

"Yup," he barely heard Jack confirm over the radio. "She always was a good speaker. In front of everyone."

"Jack…" Ana growled as if she was losing her patience.

"What?"

Nathan's bearded face scrunched up, wondering why Ana seemed irritated at Jack.


	25. A Banquet for Some, pt. 2

More than half-an-hour had passed into the event, and things have surprisingly been running smoothly in that time. No assassination attempts, no sudden explosions, no armed infiltration of assailants – nothing. Just an evening of people eating, drinking, and socializing. Lots of champagne, of course. Whatever wealthy and important people did in these gatherings. In a sense, it reminded Nathan of some of the banquets of the Ultra-Luxe. Just much cleaner and scientific. And hopefully with less human-based entrées. At least that would make things more interesting.

However, he has been keeping an eye out for trouble, specifically keeping an eye on the two Vishkar lackeys that were a table away from the guest of honor. They both kept a rather quiet profile, not doing anything out of the ordinary. It seemed more so with Satya, as she merely stared at her plate of food and occasionally nibbled on what was given to her. Looking as if she would've preferred to be anywhere else but here. The Waster could empathize with that.

He looked and saw that Angela was faring better than him throughout the entire event, socializing with Aida as that trophy of hers rested on the table for everyone to see. Both the crystal figure and the golden base shimmering in the light. Kind of like her dress and her eyes.

"Augh, I'm getting bored," the Waster lamented as he paced around the backstage. "I'm already forgetting what we're supposed to be doing here. How much more of this do we have?"

"Two more hours of the event," Pharah responded over the radio, sounding equally bored. "Or three…"

He could only shake his head and let out a huff of frustration. He brought his wrist up and started to fiddle with his Pip-Boy, the screen flickering and the buttons clicking with every motion. Wanting to see if he contracted a sickness from tedium. Brin must've been so focused on what he was doing with the RobCo computer that he almost didn't notice someone walking up to him, the heels clopping against the stage.

"Hey," Angela greeted, walking up to him holding two glasses of a bubbly golden drink. "How are you doing? I couldn't but help notice all the radio chatter. Champagne?"

"Thank you but I'm fine, Dr. Ziegler," he said, declining the alcoholic beverage. "How 'bout you? It's a big night and that was a nice speech you gave."

"Thank you. Honestly, I didn't have that much time to work on the speech and I felt like it could've been a better."

"At least you got an award. Looks shiny."

"Eh, it's just a trophy and while I appreciate the Ministries throwing this banquet in my name, it might as well be an over glorified buffet for all I care. Just with a bit more science thrown in."

"Woah, where did that come from? I thought I was the cynical one?"

She smiled at him before taking another drink from the glass in her right hand.

"Sorry if it seems a bit unlike me," the award recipient apologized, shaking her head to try and shake herself awake. "It's probably the champagne talking. I should take a seat. Why don't you join me at the table? There's an extra chair."

"I don't mind being out of sight, Dr. Ziegler. And I think you should cut yourself off. You seem a bit tipsy. Remember why we're here, right?"

"Of course, I do. Thank you for the suggestion, Nathan."

With a smile, Dr. Ziegler was about to take and go back to the table but as she turned, she noticed a pair of yellowish eyes staring at her. They belonged to Vaswani, who maintained eye-contact for a couple of seconds until she diverted them. She was standing up from her chair and exchanged a few words with her co-worker until she left his side and hurriedly made her way off the stage. Nathan noticed what she was looking at, too, and saw that was the first sign of movement the Architect had made since the event even started. From their "interactions" over the past two days, this was certainly noteworthy.

Angela passed the drink in her left hand to her bodyguard, holding a free hand up to her left ear.

"Everyone, this is Mercy," she announced over the comms, for the first time since the limousine. "I've spotted Satya Vaswani heading somewhere, in a hurry. Suggested course of action?"

"Would there be a reason, too?" Ana asked.

"Seeing as how we've seen her be pretty suspicious yesterday," Nathan joined in, recounting what he remembered. "And Vishkar's equally suspicious presence here; It might be worth considering."

"I hear you," Pharah, this time, spoke in. "I think Courier should go ahead and follow the target to see what she is up to. Mercy should stay so she wouldn't raise suspicions."

That last statement didn't sit well with "James Boone".

"Are you sure about that?" he questioned the Security-Chief. "Wouldn't that jeopardize her safety if I left?"

"The guest of honor suddenly leaving only less than an hour into a party may attract unwanted attention. Especially if something does happen with Vaswani. I don't like it either, but it's so we can ensure we don't leave as little tracks as possible."

The Courier only grumbled and lifted his head into the air, closing his eyes as if to alleviate a headache. He felt a hand grace his arm and looked down to see Angela staring up at him, a stern but understanding face on the blonde's visage.

"It's all right, I can take care of myself," she stated confidently. "You were getting bored, no? Well, she's getting away, so you should move quickly."

He couldn't argue with that logic.

"Right… Stay safe, y'hear?"

"I'll try my best."

With that, her bodyguard swiftly left his side and began making his way off the stage. After descending a small staircase, he got his shoes onto the hall floor. Feeling the hard floor clop under the dress shoes, which he also hated and almost made crossing the floor uncomfortable. His eyes scanned the hall, trying to find the Vishkar Architect. An amalgam of white and purple caught his eye, and he saw the woman briskly walking along the floor along the farthest wall from him. He doubled his walking speed, weaving through the tables, waiters, and guests spread throughout the building floor. For his stature, it was a bit challenging trying to squeeze through some tight spaces, a problem he's noticed is more frequent in this world than it ever was back home. One downside to having too many people, he supposes.

He finally reached the wall Vaswani was walking along and began to tail her, but making sure to keep a good distance as to not raise suspicions. He still had to bow and weave through busy Omnic waiters and people walking but had a much easier time hugging to the wall. Then, the brown-skinned woman took a hard-left. Disappearing through a door he did not see yet. It wasn't long until he finally reached the door she must've gone through. It slid open as he got close to it, revealing a hallway that leads further into the building. Some couches and ottomans planted alongside the walls with some occupied. Satya wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Courier," the voice of Ana notified him. "I spotted Satya. She came through a set of doors and is outside on a balcony."

He looked around and saw a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

"What's she doing?" he asks, making his way over to the doors.

"She's just standing there. With her eyes closed."

"…What?"

"Yes, she just standing there with her eyes closed. She's… murmuring?"

As the Sniper described what she saw through her scope, the Courier had finally reached the doors that slid open to an outside area of the building. A spacious balcony with cushioned seats surrounding a fireplace and a bar that was unattended. There was a glass railing that overlooked the city, Satya standing there. She was the only one of the balcony.

Confused and wary, Nathan slowly walked over to, lightly stepping across the floor to not alert her. He was around two meters away from her back when her murmuring stopped, and he stopped in his tracks. Then, she turned around and was startled to see the tall man sneak up on her, her face scowling at the sudden intrusion.

"Mr. Boone?!" she exclaimed, holding a hand to her heart. "What are you doing here?!"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," he responded, straight-faced. "You left in a hurry, rather suspiciously."

"'Suspiciously'? What? Mr. Boone, are you accusing me of something?"

The Architect's face was teetering on confused and scared, obviously caught off-guard from being followed alone but also shocked from the allegations. However, she mostly seemed confused. As if she was trying to figure out what she did wrong. She looked… Upset.

"Well, would you mind explaining what you're doing out here? Why it looks like you stormed off? Looked like you were anxious to get somewhere."

"I-I did? My appearance gave it away? I see… Thank you for telling me."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, somewhat bewildered by that response and why she was thanking him. Thanking him for what? Catching her? She then took a deep breath before opening her eyes and looking him dead in the eye. Regaining all her composure as best she could.

"If you must know; I left the event and went outside to recuperate. Gain my bearings."

"'Recuperate?' From what?"

"I… I did not like being in that place. Being in the banquet hall with so many people, so close together. They knew I despised such formal events and still proceeded to send me as an envoy. An Architect is supposed to handle structures, not extravagant galas."

"What're you-?"

"I am not good with people, is what I am attempting to articulate."

Something was off about her, but not because it seemed like she was doing anything wrong, for once. It sounded like she panicked and just wanted to get out of there. He listened to her, looking for the meaning in between her words. She didn't like being in the crowded banquet, didn't like being sent to something "formal", and literally stormed out of the room to be alone. Her mannerisms and body language were off, even before this meeting. Nathan wasn't too experienced with this, but he had an idea.

'I should ask Dr. Ziegler about this,' he made a mental note. 'I'm sure she a tad more qualified for this type of stuff.'

"I see. If that's the case, I'm sorry to intrude. I just thought… Security precautions, really."

"Is that so? That's rather presumptuous of you, Mr. Boone. Rather unprofessional."

"Yeah… Before I go, I don't know if you remember seeing me and Dr. Ziegler at the University yesterday. We noticed you were doing something with the data servers. What was that all about?"

The Indian woman looked at the Californian, annoyed that he was still there but curious as to why he was asking such a question. She decided to answer anyway if it meant she would be rid of him.

"I was processing a transaction between the city's University and the Vishkar Corporation. A simple exchange of data that serves to benefit all involved parties. It was not as dubious as you assume it to be."

"I guess it wasn't. Thank you, Ms. Vaswani. I'll leave you be, now."

As he promised, he swiftly made it for the exit and left the introverted woman alone on the balcony and to be with her thoughts, again. Shaking his head all the while.

'Great. I feel like an asshole, again.'

"Uh, what was that all about? Why did you just leave her there?" Morrison questioned over the radio.

"A misunderstanding," Nathan merely stated. "I'm going to speak with Dr. Ziegler about this. She'll make sense of it, I'm sure."

He had made his way to the other end of the hallway and the door to the banquet hall opened. However, a mere split-second after the door opened and it instantly clicked that there was something wrong. Whereas he left it with the floor buzzing like a hive, it was now silent only for a few individuals and there was little to no movement from the guests. They all seemed as if they were asleep and slumped against the tables and chairs. They were a few who still seemed conscious trying to help the ones who weren't, dragging them by the arms or trying to shake their bodies awake. They weren't dead, he could see some were clearly breathing, but they weren't responsive. A yelp in the distance made him look up to the stage to see that many of the guests seated there were unconscious except for two people, Aida trying to wrestle Angela's unconscious body from an Omnic waiter and Dr. Hassoun trying to calm her down. There were other waiters, as well, all of them seemingly okay. Except that the blue lights on their bodies were glowing red and they were suddenly armed.

"Angela!" he exclaimed out of surprise, immediately regretting that he did as he caught the attention of some of the waiters.

Almost immediately they opened fire, the gunshots sounding thunderous in the acoustics of the banquet hall accompanied by the screams of those who were still awake. Nathan immediately dove to the left, behind one of the many tables as cover. Glass and dinnerware exploding as the rounds pelted his position. He crawled on the rug floor, maneuvering around table legs and people as he tried to evade their fire. He stopped as a cold, metal object planted itself onto his sweating forehead. Looking up, he saw the muzzle of a pistol being forced into his face by one of the glowing-red Omnic waiters. To the left, the Courier noticed there was an empty chair next to his left hand and just in reach.

"Put your hands up in the air," the waiter commanded, its voice lifeless and without character. "And you will be unharmed-"

Holding onto the chair leg, Nathan pulled it and bumped it into the floating waiter, the pistol he was holding shoved away from his face but discharge uncomfortably close to his head. The man grabs the shooting hand with his right and stands up to grab the waiter by his neck with the left. He slams the half-Omnic into a table and twists the machine's hand to make it let go of the handgun, making his wrist fizzle electricity. He then punches the robot off the table and sends it flying to the floor. The sound of guns charging makes him pick up the waiter's gun and swiftly turn to fire at the threats, the Wastelander swiftly gunning down three approaching waiters before more fire from the stage force him to take cover behind a chair. Slinking into the cover to avoid getting hit, a sudden glint to his left makes him turn and hold up his left hand just in time to stop a steak knife being thrust into him by the same Omnic he just pummeled, now crackling electricity all over its hull. He brought the muzzle of the pistol to his face and watched as the metal became disfigured in a ball of fire, the Omnic falling limply to the man's feet. Then, a horrible realization that these were Omnics, not ordinary robotic drones, flashed across his mind. They were acting nice and courteous just minutes before, but had now gone rogue and were trying to kill him. What happened to them?

Suddenly, blood suddenly splattered across his face and staining parts of his suit. He immediately brought a hand up to it and wipe it off. That was when he noticed the blood wasn't his, but instead, belonged to the elderly man sitting in the chair he was taking cover behind.

"Oh, shit…"

Now thoroughly pissed, he got up from cover and started firing at the waiters on the stage and took one of them down. Fire from behind made him turn around and quickly dispatch two other waiters before turning back around to the front. But he did not fire, as he saw some of the bots were now holding Aida and Dr. Hassoun hostage.

"James! Help! Please!" Aida screamed, a metal arm around her neck and a muzzle pressed up against her head.

"I'm coming!" he screamed back, trying to make his way through the table while avoiding gunfire.

He exchanged fire as he was on the move, trying to get closer to the stage without trying to trip over bodies and avoid the other waiters roaming the hall. Before he knew it, Angela, Aida, Hassoun, and their captors were out of sight, disappearing from the stage. It became quiet as Nathan tried to figure what to do next. He first tried reaching out to the others.

"Jack! Ana! Fareeha!" he yelled out, holding a finger to his left ear, but was only met with silence and static. No response. "Can you hear me?... Dammit!"

"My Gods… What happened here?!" he heard a voice call out from his right and saw the Vishkar employee at the doorway he just left, in complete shock.

He bounded over to her.

"Satya, you need to get out of here, now!"

"Why? What is happening?"

"The Omnics. The waiters! They've gone rogue, haywire; I don't know! You need to get out of here."

"The Omnics did this? I don't understand- Behind you!"

Her face lit up as she looked at him and pushed him out of the way. Suddenly, they were both encapsulated by a blue ball of energy that was then pelted by automatic fire. The Courier watching with astonishment as the shield of energy held, its shell bubbling from the force. The automatic fire continued for a second or two before it stopped. Nathan swiftly returned fire with the borrowed pistol, landing all four shots onto the waiter's metal hull before the pistol too ran out. The machine was still "standing", fizzling, and crackling before the man growled and threw the pistol away and pulled out his M1911 – firing one last shot and taking him down. Only then, did the barrier finally dissipate.

"Did not know you could do that…" the Courier expressed gratitude.

"Sanjay!" she exclaimed, running off to the stage.

"Hey, wait up!"

He followed her, soon making it to the stage and heading to the table where Satya sat to see her kneeling down to her co-worker, who also laid on the floor unconscious. Nathan knelt next to her, observing her co-worker, noticing the glass of spilled champagne next to his hand. Looking up to see that almost every guest was offered a glass of champagne.

"Of course, they spike the drinks," he muttered under his breath. "And the one time I decide to be sober and it actually helps me. Ain't that a sign?"

He got up, went over to one of the dead Omnics and picked up their gun: A rifle with a very familiar design, one that he used back from Gibraltar when he borrowed it from a Talon foot soldier. He could only growl at it.

"Stay here!" he called back to Vaswani.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to save my client!"

The bodyguard busted through the backstage door, rifle at the ready and seeing that the hallway was clear. The Courier started to run through it, the sound of his dress shoes clacking against the floor and the parts of the rifle clattering as he did. He brought his left hand to his ear and tried to reach out to the others, again, but was met with silence, again.

Nathan made it to the other side, stopping to ready himself and slowly open the door. On the other side, he saw a large group of Omnic Waiters were in the lobby and making their way to the entrance. Their hostages still with them. He snuck in, hugging close to the wall and made it to the receptionist's desk before he took cover and started firing, hitting the one closest to the exit. They all scattered, some of them immediately returning fire and peppering the desk. The man in the suit still returned fire when he could, taking down targets with short, controlled bursts. A few of them started to go down, much easier with the rifle rounds than the pistol, but he still had to pump more lead into them on average compared to humans. Not nearly as tough as Mister Gutsies or Sentry Bots, though.

He couldn't get a bead on the ones with the hostages, as they positioned themselves at the back of the group and essentially had a barrier of metal between them and the bodyguard. Nathan had already taken out at least half of their numbers, and the group began to retreat from the entrance but made their ways to another set of doors along the other side of the room, one of them pressing a button that was next to them. A few moments later, it dinged, and the elevator door opened to let the hostage takers file in. Seeing this, the bodyguard got out of from his cover and ran over to the elevator. There was still a wall of the waiters blocking his path that he tried to fight through. Slamming the stock of his rifle into one of them and firing into him before trying to shoot the others. Suddenly, a blue orb fizzling with energy came from behind and touched the Omnics, making them spasm with electricity. He saw the Architect come through the doorway, holding a strange device in her hand. An elevator door shutting caught his attention and he ran over to find that the hostage-takers had left. Pounding his fist on the golden doors out of frustration, he stepped back and looked up to see the screen showed the elevator was going up. The numbers were rising fast.

"Thanks again for the assist," he said to Satya as he hurriedly went over to the elevator panel and called the second one. "But don't try to follow me after this."

"Why?" she questioned with a scowl. "Do you not require assistance?"

"I have plenty. Just help your people and I'll help mine."

"You possess only a rifle and a cumbersome gauntlet on your arm, Mr. Boone. Our efforts in suppressing the threat will be more successful if we cooperate."

His brow furrowed as he addressed her and looked down to the "cumbersome" hardware on his arm. The elevator door dinged and opened, the man wasting no time getting inside. The woman tried to go in with him, but he held his hand up to bar her.

"Don't make things more complicated. I got my own set of problems to fix"

The door then slid closed before she could say anything back.

Inside, the panel was a touchscreen that had a lot of buttons, Nathan decided to pick the highest possible level as he hoped he could cut them off. After he chose the floor, the doors closed, and he felt the machine jostle as it began to lift him higher into the building. He took in the silence he had as he leaned against the wall and take a breather. Suddenly, a voice erupted into his ear among the static.

"Courier? Mercy? Anyone?!" Pharah was practically yelling into the microphone.

"I'm here!" Courier responded.

"Where have you been? We've lost radio contact with you two suddenly. What happened in there?"

"Everything went to shit! The Omnic waiters went rogue and took Angela hostage. Dr. Hassoun and a student, as well."

"What?!" Ana screamed over the mic, shocked and angry. "How could you let this happen?!"

"They spiked the drinks! I didn't know until I came back from that little interrogation with Vaswani. Look, we can bust my balls about me being a shitty bodyguard later! Right now, the waiters are taking an elevator up the building. I'm using one, too."

"Which elevator and what floor are they heading to?"

"Front lobby. I don't know what floor. I just pressed the highest level on the panel to see if I can cut them off."

There was another moment of silence over the air, only the slight humming of the elevator. Looking up to see Nathan had already crossed the first 80 levels, the number still changing rapidly.

'Damn, this is a tall building.'

The elevator suddenly stopped, all the momentum from the lift making the man inside lose his balance and stumble against the walls. The lights flickered off and the holographic displays went dead. The bodyguard was afraid he was at a dead end.

"Soldier, here," it proved otherwise. "I'm on the ground and was able to cut off power to the elevators in the lobby. I'll try to find another set and rendezvous with you. Go find her!"

He didn't need to tell Nathan something he already knew to do.

Going up to the door, he tried to pry them open, but the slit was too thin to get a proper grip with his fingers. Thankfully, he was prepared, as he reached to the back of his pants and pulled out his combat knife, concealed the entire time. He jammed the blade into the slit, getting through, and use the hilt as a handle to push the doors open. One door with the blade, another with his free hand. Finally, he could climb out through an opening at the top.

Squeezing through the space with the rifle and knife in tow, he crawled out onto a floor that was much different from the ground floor he was on. It looked much closer to a lounging room, with chairs and couches situated all over. Made it awkward that there some people on this floor, giving the tall, armed man strange and scared looks.

"Courier, it's Shrike. I've spotted Mercy and the Omnics; They're on floor 120. Where are you?"

He looked around, trying to find where the elevator brought him.

"Uh… I'm on the 111th!"

"… I see you. What are you waiting for? Go!"

Again, he couldn't disagree. He saw the door for a staircase and bolted towards it, soon ramming through the door, and climbing up the staircase as fast as he could. Suddenly, the sound of gunfire and screams echoed down to him, making him pause for a second.

"I'm engaging the Omnics but they're going deeper into the building to take cover. Same floor."

The Courier continued to ascend the stairs as fast as he could, his long legs hopping over the steps, finally making it to a floor market "120". He burst through the door, the muzzle of his rifle sweeping the room. It looked like another lounging area, but he noticed on the right that some of the windows were shattered. And there were two dead Omnics on the ground. There were some people, too, some cowering behind cover or running away at the sight of Nathan.

"Hallway on your right," Ana providing guidance.

He ran down the hall, noticing it was a long, dark stretch and that there were no other entrances except for some curiously glowing doors. A rainbow strobe effect that flickered obnoxiously at a rapid rate. The Courier also noticed the ground shook the closer he got, and he heard something coming through the walls. Faint, but it sounded like… Music?

Wondering what was even happening on the other side, he stopped and raised his rifle, readying himself for what may be on the other side. One hand on the gun and one on the door, he swung it open and charged in. What happened next made his ears feel like they were going through a nuclear detonation.

"Ahhhh!" he screamed, holding a hand up to his ear. Not even able to hear his own voice. "The fuck is this?!"

A series of loud, electronic noises and screeches that conjoined to create beats and melodies in what seemed to be an attempt to create a song played throughout the room he just entered. At least he thought it was a song, as the only indication he could see was that through the flickering and strobing lights were crowds of people dancing to the sound. The dance floor, the aisles, the booths, the balconies up above, they all seemed to be moving in some way. So, enamored that they didn't notice the man with the assault rifle walking in. Clicking the safety on, he pointed the muzzle to the ground and stuck it into his suit coat to conceal it. His eyes darted around the room, trying to find where Angela was and an exit, so he could get the hell out. It was disorienting trying to find something through the flashes of color, but he spotted a stairwell that led to the upper balconies on the other side of the room. He just had to cross the sea of gyrating bodies to get to it.

Walking forward and planting his shoes along the flashing floor, he tried his best to weave through the crowd as fast as possible. It proved more difficult than it should've been, as he had a hard time not bumping into someone who was flailing like a madman or seemed completely entranced by the music and unwilling to even move an inch as they bounced in place. People were jumping, swinging, rocking, and gesticulating so much that sweat shined in the light of the room. Neon, bright strobes, and so many glowsticks they could probably fill a vat of radioactive waste. And the music… He's not surprised that a crowd of people wouldn't be able to notice if a group of armed Omnics strolled through here. Sounded like spending a night with Fisto while high on Jet and wearing a metal codpiece. Covered in nails.

He was starting to agree with Satya over crowds and began missing the desert more than usual.

After what seemed like an eternity of audio and physical assault, getting slapped multiple times by rogue limbs, he had finally crossed the sea of people and made his way to the staircase. Getting to the balcony, he watched and saw another exit ahead. Nathan ran over to it, still hugging the rifle close under his coat. As he made his way to the door and opened it, he was immediately greeted by the sight of a muzzle in his face. Quickly, he ducked as the gun went off, the round just missing him by centimeters. With his Pip-Boy, he slammed the hard shell into the machine's hand and knocked the pistol away as he pulled out the assault rifle and hit the muzzle across his face. Leveling the rifle, he fired two shots into the metal head and made metal fragments go everywhere. Those that were near him and could hear the shots screamed and bolted for cover, thankfully giving him more breathing room.

Knowing now that this was the right direction, he ran across the room and through the exit, finding himself on another floor and going through another exit. A few more rooms later, with the intensity of the music lessening, he found out that someone was screaming into his ear the entire time.

"Brin! Brin!" Pharah was calling. "Where are you? Your mic was going crazy!"

"I was in some kind of club. Loud as hell, obnoxious, and a bunch of people dancing like maniacs."

"You were at a rave? Aren't you trying to save Angela?!"

"I didn't say I fucking enjoyed it!"

Now running through the hallways, he came across another set of stairs that led up another floor. Finding himself running down a hall with windows on his right. The radio burst to life, again.

"All call-signs, be advised," it was their Sniper. "I have eyes on the captors and Angela. They're on the roof, heading towards a helipad. No doubt they're going to evac by air. Brin, you're one floor below them; Double-time it!"

He didn't bother to say anything as he rushed through a door and climbed a utility stairwell. Climbing one flight and he was out on the rooftop she was talking about. He heard gunfire, most likely Ana's work, and ran to the source. Sure enough, on the roof, there were the Omnic Waiters firing off into the distance at an unseen target. Some getting picked off with precise shots.

The Courier was about to join in before something grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against a rail. The assault rifle he had falling off the catwalk and to the ground far below them. He looked to see a mangled but still functioning Omnic trying to choke him, surprisingly strong for its stature. Gritting his teeth, he reached behind him as he slammed the Pip-Boy's casing against the metal dome. After few hits, the machine finally relinquished his hold and the Waster brought his hand up to reveal the glint of a rusty combat knife before driving it into his metal neck. A sudden burst of electricity coursed through the metal and he yelled as he let go, clutching his arm. Nathan looked down to see the fizzling robot, still glowing, as it struggled to rotate its head up to him.

"I'm…" the machine struggled to speak with its distorted voice. "… S-Sorryyyyyy…"

The pain in the man's arm somewhat subsided when he heard that, the Omnic's last words. He froze up, not even sure what to think as he stared at the metal corpse. A sudden and sharp pain in the arm he was clutching broke him out of his trance, and he looked to see a syringe planted into him. A glowing gold liquid injecting itself into him. The pain he felt just seconds earlier was now numbing. He heard Ana's voice.

"It's just a scratch, you'll be fine."

Without another word, he pulled the syringe and ran out into the roof. Nathan was starting to get tired of this mission as he then pulled out his venerable sidearm. He ran towards the Omnics as he fired his M1911, expertly firing and landing shots, taking them down. Taking cover occasionally to reload before vaulting over and resuming his assault. They, of course, fired back, but the tall human's rush towards them with the combined fire of his .45 and the Sniper supporting him proved to be a bit much for the waiters turned combat drones. Their numbers dwindling, they were retreating to the helipad. The Courier giving chase.

Then, an explosion in the distance made Nathan stop and turn around, seeing the plume of orange fire blow off into the dark sky. Recognizing that was where their hotel was.

"Fareeha!" Ana went from calm and collected to distraught in a second.

There was silence on the radio, the Courier and the Sniper staring off into the horizon anxiously. Another explosion went off but behind Nathan, spinning around to see blue energy dissipate as blue plasma bolts started cutting down the machines. The Soldier had finally arrived with his heavy hitting Pulse Rifle.

"Ana, go to Fareeha!" he commanded as he ejected an empty Pulse Cell. "We'll take over from here!"

"Jack-!"

"Go!"

"…Roger that."

Her comms went silent, Nathan and Jack now the only ones left trying to save the other member of their squad. Suddenly, a large matte black aircraft swooped overhead and to the landing pad. With even more incentive, the two rushed up the stairs and got onto the helipad. They were fired upon, but the two grizzled veterans fired back and quickly dispatched of the last of the armed Omnics. Unfortunately, the waiters with the hostages were boarding the ship through a ramp. However, a .45 ACP slug lodged itself into the head of the machine carrying Angela, letting go of the unconscious blonde and making her body tumble down the ramp and onto concrete. The Courier ran up the ramp and tried to get to the others. Shooting the Omnics before they could fire back. Before he could help the two up, rushing boots made him look up just in time to see himself get kicked in the face and tumble back down the ramp.

"James!" Aida screamed as she tried to reach out but was pulled from behind.

His head spinning, he looks up to see a Talon soldier, almost as big as him, descending the ramp to reach for Angela's limp body. Three bolts of blue energy hit him instead, lurching in pain but still standing, before Morrison dove into him and took him to the ground. Another Talon soldier came down, but with a rifle, and was about to shoot Morrison before Nathan pulled scrambled for his handgun and unloaded an entire magazine into him. His body dropping to the ramp with his blood pouring out over it. Nathan saw more red eyes approaching, swiftly reloading, and getting to a crouching position as he fired into the dark and making them disperse.

Apparently, the dropship decided to take this as a cue to leave and was starting to lift itself off from the air. The ramp shut itself, the man on the floor watching as Aida screamed and tried to scramble to him but was held back by an unseen person. Soon enough, the dropship zoomed off into the distance. Its black exterior making it disappear into the night sky.

The sound of fighting made him look to his left and see Morrison still fighting the Talon soldier, the Soldier for some reason having a difficult time with the man. Nathan rose his pistol but saw that the slide was locked back. He reached behind him but cursed when he didn't have any more rounds. Growling, he got up and unsheathed his rusty combat knife and rushed the taller man choking Morrison to the ground. He couldn't react before he jammed the knife into his side, the Talon soldier screaming before he threw Jack away and backhanded Nathan in the face. He staggered from the blow before a gloved fist slammed into his face and knocked all the wind out of him. It hit hard. Very hard.

He fell to the concrete on his elbows until he felt someone grab him by his shoulders and prop him up before delivering punches into his stomach. Yelling from the blows as it felt like a wrecking ball slamming into him, he snarled as he sent a strong, cybernetic enhanced uppercut into the soldier's stomach. The goon reacted but wasn't immediately coughing out blood as most people would. In retaliation, he headbutted Nathan with his metal helmet and sent him to the ground feeling as if he got a concussion.

Something was wrong; This guy was hitting hard and taking hard hits from a Grizzled Soldier and a Mojave Cyborg. With a knife stuck in his side, to boot. The Mojave Cyborg watched in a mix of shock and awe as the man pulled the knife out of his body, caked in his own blood. He began to make advances towards Nathan before Morrison jumped him from behind, latching onto him and punching him in the wound. Incurring pained and angry screams. As he flailed around, the man on the ground saw movement out of the left corner of his eye. He looked to see it was Angela, moving sluggishly and trying to pass something to him: Her Caduceus Blaster.

Not even questioning where she kept that, he scrambled over and grabbed the field medic's weapon, a bit ungainly in his large hand. Standing up, he ran over to the Talon soldier and tackled him into the ground. Both Morrison and his knife knocked away. Surprised, he tries to claw at the man on top of him but recoils when a blaster shot goes off, and another, and another, and another. All of them right where his abdomen was as the Waster held the muzzle of the Caduceus Blaster there, his eyes peering into the red eyes of the helmet until it seemed he was done for, hearing his death rattle faintly beneath the mask. The metal head clinking against the concrete as it slumped back. Nathan got off the corpse, breathing heavily. Looking down at the small energy pistol in his hand, the end of the muzzle stained with some blood. He looked to the left to see Morrison approaching and holding Angela up, bridal-style.

"Some help, please?" he begged, walking over to him.

Nathan went over to him and held his arms out, adjusting his stance as Morrison laid the knocked-out figure of Angela onto him before he went to the corner and retrieved his Pulse Rifle and Nathan's knife.

"That man," he rasped out, looking at the corpse as he walked by. "He hit hard. Too hard. I'd wager someone has been tampering with his genetics."

"What?" Nathan questioned, confused as to why that was the conclusion he made. "What makes you think that?"

"Takes one to know one," the Soldier sort-of explained before he held the knife up and flicked some blood off it. "Where do I put this?"

"Back of my pants. Left side. You should see a sheath there."

"Right."

The white-haired man went behind him, and Nathan felt the blade go back in with a click. Slight stirring at his chest made him look down to see the blonde rustling and mumbling in her sleep. That halo, which was somehow still on after all this time, brushing against the fabric of his suit. She looked so serene, despite having been sedated and almost kidnapped.

"Jack? Nathan? It's Ana," a welcomed voice came back, forgoing the callsigns. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Ana," Morrison spoke up, the relief he had hidden by the mask. "What's your status?"

"Fareeha is safe and is with me. Our prisoner, too. We got out with everything we needed, so no evidence left behind, other than a smoldering hotel suite. You?"

"We got Angela back, but they made off with Hassoun and that girl."

"I see… We're making our way to you in a stolen van, right now. Get here quick."

"Roger that."

He looked to Nathan over his shoulder.

"Follow me. I know a shortcut we can take to avoid attention."

The Soldier in the leather jacket began to lead the way, climbing down the helipad and making his way across the roof. Nathan followed but tried to his best to make sure the woman in his arms wouldn't fall from his arms. She rustled a bit more when he moved but not too much. As they passed a line of metallic bodies, none of them glowing red anymore but still donning their formal wear, something crossed the Wastelander's mind.

He had fought at a large event held by the Ministries of this city – one of the safest in the world – and proceeded to fight up multiple levels where there were other people dancing to weird music, eventually going up to the rooftops. Yet, in not even a single instance, did security or law enforcement intervene throughout the entire thing. Come to think of it… The bodyguard was not even sure if he saw any security personnel around. Where was the Ministry of Law Enforcement/Public Safety that Hassoun promised?

* * *

Street lights shined through the windshield, quickly fading, and growing as the van sped along the highway. Thankfully, traffic was light despite what had transpired over the night. The hearts of the passengers skipping a beat every time a police car came into sight, sirens blaring but relieved when the Law Enforcement zoomed by. Fareeha was in the driver's seat, her tablet on the passenger side as she spoke with Athena and Winston back at Gibraltar, and in the back, were Jack, Ana, Nathan, Angela, and the Prisoner - still tied up in duct tape and not wanting to make eye contact with anyone else. The Old Soldiers sat on one side together, across from Nathan and their captive, Jack examining his rifle while Ana held the sleeping blonde's head on her lap and attentively drifted her hand across her golden locks – acting as if she was also a daughter of hers. Given their history together, she might as well be. And the Courier just sat there, watching her act like a mother. While the back was silent, the front was noisy with the back and forth between Fareeha and her tablet.

"I'm sorry Fareeha, but we might have to pull you out from this mission," spoke the genetically modified gorilla.

"But we still haven't found Hakim!" she shot back.

"I know, but you still have no lead and we almost lost you and Angela to Talon. They know you're here!"

Her face hardened as she watched the road, knowing full well that the Scientist was making sense. The mission was a bust. A shootout at a banquet coupled with an explosion at their hotel suite. Things had gone so awry so fast, she felt like how she did trying to shutdown Anubis. Her CO and most of her squad being wiped out in the first few seconds of the engagement, and losing even more men when they held the Temple against Talon. No one died here, however, so she had to make sure they came back home safe. She heard someone groaning in the back and a gasp coming from her Mother.

"Angela!" she exclaimed, as she helped the Doctor sit up next to her. "Are you all right, dear?"

"A-Ana?" the blonde sat up, still drowsy as she held a hand to her head. "Whe-Where are we?"

"We're in a stolen van, Angela. We're trying to get out of the city. Don't worry, everyone in the squad is safe."

"Hmm, where's Aida? I-Is she safe?"

The Sniper became quiet when she asked about the welfare of the student, a solemn look as she brushed one of her blonde locks to the side. Someone then cleared his throat on the other side of the van to break the silence.

"Aida…" it was Nathan. "Was kidnapped by Talon. Dr. Hassoun, too. I tried to get to them but…It didn't work out."

He felt a tinge of pain on his stomach, still feeling the blows from the man he killed on the roof.

"He's telling the truth," Morrison provided some witness testimony. "Dropship flew away before we could even do anything, and a soldier was giving us more trouble than he should've. Brin barely saved you."

"We-we have to save her, then!" the Doctor exclaimed, almost shooting up from her seat but Ana held her down and tried to calm her.

"Angela…"

"Don't 'Angela' me, Morrison! She's just a girl! There's no telling what Talon will do to her."

"Angela, we don't even know where Talon is set up. Fareeha got assaulted at the hotel room and we barely made it as we carried you out. We can't just go on a wild goose chase and risk more lives! I'm sorry, Doctor, but you can't save 'em all."

"I… I see. I-I-I'm sorry I acted like that."

"It's not on you."

She sat back down, deflated. As if all the blue in her eyes just became a duller shade. Her bodyguard, the man sitting across from them, was bothered more by that sight than he should've been. Mainly, because it was a feeling he was all too familiar with. The feeling of failure; Wanting to do something right when everything else was stacked against you. One of the many things the Courier had to live with. The regret of it all.

As he sulked into his seat, he heard a noise to his left. As if someone was trying to speak. He looked and saw their prisoner, still tied up and with tape around his face, but he was looking at them. The words he was trying to say muffled. His eyes weren't full of malice or pleading, it looked like they had something to say.

"Iamm mmnno wwwwer mmmey ar!" the duct tape muffled his voice.

"What?" the Courier questioned.

"Iam mmno wherr mthey are!"

His eyes widened as he realized what he was trying to say. He promptly grabbed at his face and ripped off the duct tape from his mouth, making him yelp as skin and hair were ripped off. Nathan then repeated his question, but louder and angrier.

"What?!"

"I know where they are!"

The interior of the van had fallen silent when the agent uttered those words. Even Fareeha and Winston shut their mouths. Nathan narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he couldn't believe that the agent knew where Talon's base of operations. That interrogation was worthless; He should've been there, cutting him up. The Waster promptly lurched forward and slammed the agent's head against the inside of the van, making him scream in pain and fall to the floor as he recoiled. Fareeha yelled at him as it made the ride shake. He ignored her as he got off his seat and got over the restrained operative and grabbed his throat.

" _You_   _motherfucker_!" he yelled, his angered face mere inches from his. "Why the hell didn't you tell us before?!"

"I-I-I-I didn't want Talon to know I ratted out on them!" the agent said, terror in his eyes. "They would've killed me if I told!"

"And you think I'm not going to, now?!"

"Please! If I said anything, people would've gotten hurt. They would've been killed! You know how Talon is. I-I didn't want any of that to happen. I never wanted people to get hurt. I swear!"

"Bullshit. You think the blood on my shirt is mine? People  _did_ die because of you, you little fuck!"

The Tribal pulled out his knife, making the man below him skip a beat.

"I swear to Christ, if there's anything else you didn't tell us, I'm going to gut you like a Molerat!"

Before he could even fulfill his promise, a hand found itself onto his shoulder and he looked to see Ana now at his side. Her face stern but empathetic as she shook it side-to-side. She wasn't angry, only wanted him to stop from dirtying the van.

"That's enough," she said to the Waster before she looked down at the captive. "You can see my friend here is very upset. You said you knew where they were, didn't you dear?"

"Y-yes!" he confirmed, his eyes darting in-between the soothing mother figure and the livid man with a knife. "I know where they're stationed! They're set up at the tower that's still under construction. The tallest building in the city! That's where Talon has been staging our operations in Oasis and it should be where Hakim is."

"And of Dr. Hassoun and the girl?"

"They would've taken them there, too. C-can he not kill me now, please?"

Before Ana could say anything, Nathan grabbed him by the jaw and lifted him up into the air before slamming his head against the floor, knocking the lights out of him. The Sniper was a bit surprised, to say the least. She was just glad they got the information they should've gotten hours earlier.

"How do we know he was telling the truth," Morrison spoke up. "If he lied then, there would've been nothing to stop him from lying now."

"True," Ana consented. "We have no other leads, however, but it seems this may be our best shot-"

"H-Hello?" a meek female voice spoke out over their comms.

Everyone except Angela reacted to the sudden voice in their ears.

"What's wrong?" she asked, noticing their reactions.

"You didn't hear it?" Nathan responded, pointing to his left ear.

"Hear what?"

Her hand went up to her left ear, the blue eyes widening in surprise as she felt her earpiece was no longer there.

"H-Hello?" the voice called out again. "Can anyone hear me?"

"A-Aida?" Nathan responded, recognizing that voice. "Is that you?"

"James? Oh, thank God!"

"Aida, how are you-?"

"Angela dropped an earpiece when she was knocked out and I picked it up. I guess they didn't notice. Please, you've got to help me!"

Nathan looked to see Angela begging Ana for her earpiece, and when she finally got, scrambled to plug it into her ear.

"Aida, this is Angela!" she said into the earpiece

"Angela? Thank God, you're okay!"

"Where are you? Are you safe?"

"I-I don't know where I am. They flew us in the dropship and we're in a tall building. It didn't have a roof."

The tall tower was still under construction and didn't have a roof. The agent must've been telling the truth, then, to the surprise of the Overwatch agents.

"Where did they bring you? Is Ibrahim with you?"

"They brought me up some stairs and took me to a small room. A cell I think. Dr. Hassoun's not with me. They brought him somewhere else after we landed. Angela, I don't know what to do!"

"Stay put, Aida. Maintain radio silence and don't say anything. We're coming to help."

"Thank you!" the young woman expressed, almost sounding like she was on the verge of tears before her communicator clicked off.

So, they finally had a proper lead, the one they were desperately searching for ever since they got inside the city.

"Of course, it's the tower," Morrison grumbled out. "The most obvious thing we could've overlooked. Didn't even look busy, for a construction site."

"That might've been the idea," Fareeha gave her two cents at the front, making a U-turn across the street. "I'm driving there right now, so, you better come up with a plan before we get there."

They were going to approach a secret Talon operation in the middle of one the safest cities in the world. The team could go in guns blazing, but that would not only endanger their lives but Aida's and Ibrahim's. They couldn't risk it, as they already knew Overwatch was in the city. Subtlety needed to be their plan. For some reason, the Courier looked down at the Talon operative he knocked out and thought of something. Something that was handy when he snuck into Legion camps.

* * *

Half-an-hour later, the van pulled up to the curb of the street where the tower was, its headlights off as the door on its side slid open. Nathan climbed out and planted his boots onto the sidewalk. Except, instead of wearing his blood-stained suit, he wore the Talon agent's uniform, complete with the hat and the backpack. Briskly, he began to walk towards the entrance of the uncompleted building as the van drove away and out of sight. The clothes were a bit tight on his large frame, but he didn't want to show it. Didn't stop others from voicing their doubts about this very simple plan.

"This is stupid, " Morrison lamented, his voice still in his ear.

"Shh!" Ana silenced him. "It would be stupider to go in guns blazing like you always do, Jack. We need to scout it out, first."

"What if he gets caught?"

"Then, you can go in guns blazing."

Until then, the disguised man made it to the front entrance at the base of the tower. The exterior at the bottom seemed largely finished as he opened the door to see a lobby like any other building. Well, it would be a lobby if it only didn't have one elevator. Somewhat confused, he looked around to see there were no other entrances aside from this one elevator. He went up to it, cautious, slowly pressed the button and stood back. Nothing happened. No sounds, no beeps. Nothing. He clicked again, the same result, and was about to search for another entrance before he noticed a slot at the bottom of the panel. The infiltrator dug into the borrowed pants and retrieved the blank keycard that was on the Prisoner. He slid it in and pulled it out, waiting for anything to happen. The slight whirring of a machine was his answer, and then, a ding. It opened, empty, and against his better judgment, he walked in. There was only one icon on the panel and he pressed it, the elevator then closing and moving. He felt it move downward.

"I'm in… I think," he called out to the others.

"Where are you?" it was Fareeha.

"In an elevator. Had to use a keycard to get it moving. I think I'm moving down."

"Do you see anything, yet?"

"No, I'll tell you when I-"

Suddenly, it became bright behind him and he turned around to find himself staring out of windows the elevator was against. Before him, he saw an area thrice as large as the banquet hall, serving as an area for all the military equipment, supplies, and even vehicles spread throughout. He could even see a dropship hovering off the ground and thrusting itself up to the building opening at the top. Enough space to squeeze through. He looked down onto the center of the large area, seeing what appeared to be the command center as there were monitors and desks strewn about it.

"Nevermind, there is a huge staging area beneath the tower."

"What? How many troops?"

"Too many to count from where I am…"

"Damn! Okay, focus on finding Aida and Dr. Hassoun, first. We'll work on devising an extraction."

"…Gotcha."

The Courier's fought through cluster fucks before, but he didn't want to push his luck when all he had was a pistol and a knife. It wasn't even his favorite pistol, just the one he was "borrowing". Adjusting the backpack on his shoulder, he hoped he remembered to pack what he was going to need most. As the lift came to a crawl and finally reached the ground floor, the man inhaled and as soon as the elevator doors dinged, he walked out at a steady pace and adjusting the cap to conceal his eyes. Counting his blessings that he wasn't immediately met with a squad of muzzles. He noticed from the elevator that there were a set of stairs on the far left and far right; Aida mentioning she was taken up some stairs before being put in a cell. He decided to go left first as he was already making his way there.

As he walked vigorously, avoiding eye contact, and keeping a distance from the personnel walking around - whether they were technicians or armed soldiers. Avoiding detection so far, he made it about halfway when he heard something that almost made him stop. Taking cover behind some crates, he peeked around the corner to see they were two men at the command center arguing about something. One of them was a middle-aged man with a black beard, slicked back hair, and tan skin, wearing a black suit with a white shirt – it was Hakim, the man they've been looking for all along. However, the man Hakim was speaking to another middle-aged man with graying hair, dark skin, glasses, and a doctor's coat over his formal attire. It was Dr. Hassoun. This more than confused the Courier and he felt anger begin to bubble inside.

From their tones and the volumes of their voices, it was clear they were arguing but in Arabic. The Californian couldn't understand a single word of it but saw the two men were on equal ground and both spoke with authority over the other. The Oasis Scientist not even flinching in the argument and seeming as angry with Hakim as Hakim was with him. The guards around them didn't even care when Hassoun acted up. That could only mean that whatever happened - the events that transpired at the banquet - was a joint effort.

"Fareeha, come in," he whispered as his he watched them. "I found Hassoun and Hakim. They're working together."

"W-What?!" said a shocked voice not belonging to the Security-Chief, but the Doctor. "That can't possibly be Ibrahim… No, this doesn't sound right. How are you so sure?"

"They're arguing with each other, Hassoun's not restrained, and the guards don't even care that Hassoun's there. I don't know what they're saying, but it sounds pretty heated."

"Get out of there before Hassoun spots you and find the girl," Morrison commanded.

Without another word, Nathan bolted from his cover and continued to make his way to the stairs. Reaching them and soon climbing up to the second level and hoping Aida was somewhere along here. He did notice that the second levels were sparse and barely had any personnel on them, his side nor the others. There was only a lone guard stand at a door on his side. It had to be there. However, he couldn't risk killing or even knocking out the guard when he was in the middle of a hornet's nest. He decided a more… Talkative approach would work.

He approached the man with a stride in his step, the man soon noticing and holding up his hand as he approached him.

"Hey! What are you doing up here?" he questioned, tensing up a bit.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," Nathan questioned back, his tone stern.

"What?"

He heard Ana's voice in his ear, trying his best to ignore her. "Brin, what are you-?"

"I was just assigned to guard the girl," he explained to the Talon soldier, raising an eyebrow. "And me only… Who assigned you to this post?"

"Sergeant Jackson."

Nathan then tried his best to look frustrated and confused.

"The Sergeant? Not the CO?"

"Uh… The CO wasn't there when the Sarge told me to be here so I-"

"Am violating procedure and, by your own admittance, committing an act of insubordination to the Commanding Officer's order. That's what you're doing."

The Courier tried to restrain himself from smirking as he saw the Talon guard begin to panic a little, seeing him quake in his boots as he began to stammer.

"Well… When you put it that way… Shit. Look, man, I didn't mean to fuck up. So, can you please not tell anyone about this? Especially the CO? He'll have my head."

"If you allow me to do the job you're doing right now, sure. Just this once."

The Talon soldier, even with the helmet, looked relieved when he heard those words. Not knowing he would've been fine either way. The Forty-Year-Old Wastelander still got it.

"Ah, thanks man," he said as he passed him a keycard.

"No problem," the intruder nodded, happily taking the keycard from him.

The guard walked past him, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he left, Nathan returning the gesture. He then stood in front of the door and had his hands behind his back, doing his best to look like he was guarding. Feeling more like an ass, if he was being honest. After a few seconds, he looked to see that the man was out of sight and there were no other eyes on him. It looked like he was clear.

"Huh," the Old Sniper let out, genuinely surprised the Wastelander could pull that off. "Nice job, Brin."

"Yup," he replied, turning around, and swiping the keycard along the reader.

The locks whirred open and he pushed in to find a small room with only one light shining upon a young woman lying on the floor. She looked up, dread on her face as she saw the uniform, but it quickly shifted to joy when she saw the face. The man barely had time to react when she jumped up and ran up to him, hugging her face against the vest he was wearing.

"James!" she exclaimed, tears forming in her eyes. "You came!"

"Yeah, and I need you to be quiet, kid," he told her in a hushed voice.

"W-Where's Angela?"

"She's with the others. Here, put this on."

He pulled out a circular device and attached it to her left arm, fastening a leather strap.

"What is this?" the University student asked, examining the strange looking piece of tech.

"A Stealth-Boy," the Courier answered, pointing to a switch on the side. "Flip this and it'll make you near invisible for a short amount of time."

"Really?! I've never heard of anything like this, before."

"It's not common. Here, at least. Don't turn it on until I tell you to, and stick close to me when you do. There is an elevator at the far end of this building and that's where we're heading. Don't make any noise and don't even touch anything. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded, a determined face replacing where there was once fear.

"This is Nathan," he reached out to the others. "I found Aida. I'm going to head outside, now."

"Copy that," Fareeha received the transmission. "We'll deal with Hakim and the rest after she is safe."

Nathan was about to respond until he heard something echo from the command center. A voice, gravely and deep, memories of being choked in his cell instantly resurging to mind. He motioned to Aida to stay put despite obvious protests from her and went to the railing to get a view of the floor from above. Sure enough, joining in on the conversation between Hassoun and Hakim was the man in the black coat and bone-white mask. The "Reaper" as he found out he was called. He silently watched the exchange from above. The two men were speaking English now in his presence.

"You're beginning to test my patience, Hakim," the Reaper said, his mask might as well be matching the expression under it. "Not only have you failed to capture the Doctor, the Architect, and the… Stranger, but you've had one of my men killed combined with too much collateral damage. Not only costing Talon a good deal but the scientists in Oasis, as well. This will be difficult to cover-up. You also failed to capture whoever was hiding in the hotel suite and our missing agent."

"I-I-I know, sir, but," Hakim stammered, all the bravado he had when he talked with Hassoun gone. "But I was able to get you the information on Helix! And I was the one who helped lure your ex-coworkers to my compound!"

"Yes, but they're still alive. And they're here, in this very city. Looking for  _you_. Wanna know how they know you're here?"

"I-"

"They're here because of that other failed operation from before, where you couldn't clear the U.N. from your home even with what we gave you."

"N-n-now we don't know if they know I'm-"

"I know them, Hakim. I know how they think. They're here because of you. I've given you multiple opportunities to prove me wrong and you've failed me every step of the way. You're a liability in many ways. Haven't shown me that you really are worth your price. On the behalf of Talon, and of my growing temper, this business relationship has been terminated."

"Wait! No!"

The crime lord barely had time to react as the cloaked figure swiftly drew one of his shotguns and shot him directly in the chest, the register of the gun sounding thunderous throughout the half-constructed hall. A fountain of blood, guts, and bone exploding through his back and onto the floor. His body slumped to the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming under him. Hassoun and some of the technicians were shaken, while the Reaper just stood there, shotgun hanging lazily from a clawed hand. It looks like the mission really is a bust for Overwatch. He made sure to notify the rest of the team of what had happened.

"However, Doctor," Reaper cleared his throat to get Dr. Hassoun's attention. "You'll be glad to know that Talon is still willing to cooperate with the Ministries of Oasis despite these… Setbacks as the benefits of staying greatly outweigh the costs."

"That is… Great to hear," Dr. Hassoun tried to feign a smile. "Will we still have complete independence over our projects?"

"Your own projects, yes. But not the ones that will be contracted to you by us. We will have full control over the planning and procedure that your scientists will do for us. We will also be moving our Base of Operations to a more discreet location, as we will be clearing out from the tower."

"I see. Well, one more question if you may? Can you please spare the girl, Aida? She was just caught up in the crossfire. At the wrong place, at the wrong time. I wouldn't wish for someone innocent to be hurt. Especially, a student like her."

The man in the cloaked sighed, twisting his head so that his neck cracked and cracking his knuckles as he did so.

"Fine," he relented, before turning his back to the scientist. "After I kill the person trying to save her and posing as one of my men."

"Oh, shit…"

As he said that, Reaper dissolved into a cloud of smoke and gusted up to the man above him. Nathan drew the borrowed sidearm and fired at the cloud to no effect, the air clouding around the rounds. Nathan threw the keycard at Aida as it finally reached him, and get slammed against the ground as the figure reformed, planting a boot on the man's chest and pointed a shotgun at his head. He looked to his left to look at Aida, the Reaper doing the same.

"Say goodbye to your savior, sweetheart," he mocked.

Aida looked at Nathan, who nodded at her, before quickly flipping the switch on her wrist and disappearing.

"What?!"

Nathan took that opportunity to grab the boot on his chest and offset the balance of the cloaked man, making him fall and fire a harmless shot into the air. The Reaper fell onto his back and the taller man climbed onto him and deliver strong punches to the skull-mask. That was until a jab from the left sent him reeling to the side and onto his face. He tried to get up before another punch sent him flying back and he felt a claw wrap around his throat and to the wall. It still felt like a Super Mutant.

"Oh, I recognize you," Reaper said as his mask got close to his face. "From Gibraltar. The  _pet_. If I had known you would be causing all this trouble, I would've blown your head off."

"I should thank you, then," the Courier said through gritted teeth as he threw his head forward and butted it against the skull and making him relinquish his grip on his throat. He then charged forward, tackling the assassin and crashing into the glass railing, falling to the ground. They plummet through a series of scaffoldings, their combined weight breaking through the metal and causing the structure to fall with them. When they finally hit the ground, they hit hard, whether it was the hard surface of the concrete or the hardened metal pipes slamming into them on the way down. Both were still alive and tried to get up as a shotgun fell in-between. Nathan saw it first and immediately scrambled to the weapon, wrapping his hand around the grip and already pointing the muzzle at the masked man. He squeezed the trigger, feeling the weapon jump up in his hands harder than a sawed-off. Unfortunately, Reaper turned into smoke before the shot could connect and it only ricochet off the floor. Before he could even react, a sudden blue blast from the elevator made him and every Talon soldier in the facility turn to the front. A second after, there was gunfire from both ballistic and energy weapons.

"Brin, get your ass over here!" Morrison ordered him over the radio.

"But the Reaper!"

"Forget about him! We're pulling out!"

Bearing his teeth, he got up, clutching the left side of his body as he ran over to the fighting. He brought the shotgun up to deliver a wall of the fiery buckshot to a Talon soldier, making him fall in a cloud of his blood. He finally reached the elevator and spotted the Old Soldier releasing a barrage of blue bolts that seemed to veer toward the Talon goons as a yellow hologram hovered in front his mask. Ana was behind him, providing Sniper fire. She saw Nathan hobbling to them and decided to fire another syringe of the golden stuff at him, making the pain go away and his stride quicker. Soon enough, he was already behind them and took down two approaching soldiers with the shotgun before he heard a click and threw it at another one's face. The three soon piled back into the elevator, the one with the Pulse Rifle still firing through the glass as the machine slowly went up. Then, it eventually gained speed even as they were being fired upon and they were out of sight of the staging area and back to the ground floor. They quickly made their way out, just in time, as the elevator rocked and fell back down without them. The three soon made it back to the van, drifting off into the freeway. No one was chasing them.

* * *

The front of the University looked quiet, peaceful even as there were few people around. The only ones close to the entrance were two women, hugging each other.

"I'm so sorry all of this happened, Angela," Aida cried in-between the words. "Things had gone so wrong so quickly, I just didn't…"

"That's enough now," her idol comforted, rubbing the back of her head assuredly. "It wasn't your fault. In fact, I should be the one who should be sorry. You were kidnapped because of me, and went through a lot for a young college girl like yourself."

"But you still rescued me! You and your bodyguard…"

The student peered behind Angela to see the van, waiting, the side wide open and showing Jack, Ana, and Nathan watching them. The first two were also people she looked up to when she was a child, reading and fantasizing about the old Overwatch's exploits. She wasn't the only one in her generation to have such notions about the organization. Probably one of the few to act upon it, though. She looked back at her idol with a solemn look.

She was still wondering how the man now revealed to her as "Nathan" fit in all of it, but given what he did to get her out of there… It wouldn't be too hard to figure out.

"I guess it's true then? Overwatch really is back?"

"I believe so," Dr. Ziegler answered, a warm smile gracing her features. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I won't."

They finally said their goodbyes with one last hug and separated, the student walking back into the University and the Doctor watching her go inside before getting to the van knowing another life was saved. After she climbed in, the van sped off into the highway and soon joined the traffic. Red and white lights zooming by under the desert sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter was a bitch to write. Jesus.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	26. Errands

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

Morning overtook the base as it began revving back to life as the personnel stationed there began their day. Whether it was to maintain the Watchpoint, keeping an inventory check on their supplies, or being assigned to missions – it was another day in the office for the renounced organization. Yet, not everyone was buried in tons of errands.

Jesse McCree, who disliked getting up in the morning as much as the next agent, walked through the hallways as he made his way to the mess hall to get himself some breakfast. A field agent can't exactly get their day started on an empty stomach, and the cowboy was more than happy to help himself to some breakfast. Wasn't the best food in the world but it was good enough for it to go down easier than most. Especially when compared to the other diets he had to subsist on for the past couple of years.

The route he took was a usual one, one he traveled almost every morning. Every room, window, door, and light looked the same as they ever did; Nothing new, really. He then walked by a doorway that led to a separate room, looking through it for a moment, passing by without a second thought until the gunslinger stopped and did a double-take. Peering inside what was basically a lounge – furnished with a flat screen T.V., a couch, and a coffee table – he spotted Genji sitting on the coffee table for some reason. Puzzled as to why he would sit on that instead of the couch, Jesse walked in. As he got close to the Cyborg Ninja, he saw he was taking a meditative posture with his back to the approaching Cowboy and facing a sleeping man on the couch. He was dressed in a uniform too tight for him, gear splayed out all over the floor near the couch, and overly tall for the lounger as his legs hung over the other end. The sleeping man was on his side, his back to them, but Jesse recognized that it was Nathan. That only provoked more questions.

"Uhh," a confused groan escaped his mouth as he looked at his metallic co-worker. "What are ya' doin'?"

"Meditating," Genji answered, his visor still focused on the sleeping man.

"What's Brin doin' here?"

"I am not sure. I found him here when it was dawn. Been watching over him ever since."

"Really? That's a bit creepy, Genji."

A short chuckle emanated from the metal man as his head turned to look over his shoulder. A smirk was hidden under that mask.

"I am only joking, Jesse. I did come here to relax but he has been here since I found him. It would've been rude to wake him up."

"Right…"

After that short little exchange, the man sleeping on the couch began to shuffle. Nathan made various guttural groans as his body turned and laid his back flat against the seats as his right arm hung over the edge. His head shook a bit, rubbing against the couch's armrest as he murmured more. His eyelids parted, slowly and blinking repeatedly as his vision tried to focus. Then, they grew in surprise as he looks up to see a Cyborg on a table and a Cowboy in a red flannel looking down at him.

"Uhm…" he croaked out, his throat feeling dry. "Do you guys usually watch people in their sleep or…?"

"You mumble in your sleep," Genji noted, straight-faced. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Nathan groaned as his head slumped back and closed his eyes.

"I got back from Oasis, tired as hell, and tried to find my quarters. Instead, I found this room and this comfy lookin' couch. Lied down to rest on it for a bit and… Guess I just nodded off."

After his explanation, McCree smirked as he bent down and nudged Genji in the shoulder.

"Sounds familiar, don't it?" the former-Blackwatch agent said to the other.

"Yes," Genji responded. "Except you usually passed out from being a drunkard, and I always had to help Commander Reyes carry you back to your quarters."

"Hmph, guess you got a faulty memory then. Well, I was just headin' to the mess to grab some grub. I'll leave you two be, then."

The Cowboy then left, Genji nodding to him and Nathan lazily waving a hand as he shut his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep. Genji then pivoted his body to face the T.V. and grabbed the remote that was next to him. The screen came to life on a news channel, a brunette newswoman facing the camera as the image of a city in the desert was right next to her. She spoke as the headline "Incident at Ministry Held Banquet at Oasis – Overwatch Involved?" was at the bottom.

"In response to the recent firefight and supposed kidnapping at a banquet held by the Ministries in honor of former-Overwatch head medical researcher, Dr. Angela Ziegler, the United Nations has launched an investigation into the incident. Citing that it could possibly be related to the 'New Overwatch' and provide further clues about their resurgence."

Genji could hear the man on the couch behind him grumbling, unsure if it was the volume of the T.V. or the content on it. Either way, he lowered the volume a tad out of courtesy.

"The Ministries, the governing body of the city of Oasis, have stated that they will cooperate with the U.N. and provide any information they have regarding the event. Dr. Ibrahim Hassoun, one of the founding members of Oasis and an attendee of the banquet, had this to say."

Nathan's eyes snapped open when he heard his name.

"On the behalf of the Ministries and the city of Oasis, we are deeply sorry for the incident that occurred last night," the old man spoke at a podium with microphones all over it, looking at a crowd offscreen. "We especially give our condolences to the loved ones of those that have had their lives taken during the event, and to those who had to be put through a very stressful and horrible situation. I promise, the Ministries and I will continue to work diligently to ensure that our great and prosperous city can still be considered one of the safest and most secure places in the world."

"Lying piece of shit," Genji heard Nathan growl from behind.

The screen switched back to the brunette.

"While details of the incident are still being investigated, many have speculated that it was a group of Omnic terrorists that perpetrated the attempted kidnappings and that there was another party who engaged in combat with the Omnics. Much of this information was gathered from eyewitnesses who were present at the event. The party has not yet been identified, but there is the possibility of a link to the New Overwatch as the whereabouts of Dr. Angela Ziegler are still unknown. We will keep you updated as the investigation uncovers more."

Nathan felt himself being riled as the news report ended, already tired of hearing from it and not wanting to be reminded of it so soon. He was about to ask his fellow cyborg to switch to something else until the base's intercom went off.

"Nathan Brin, please report to Winston's laboratory," Athena announced.

He wanted to complain about the always impeccable timing of those announcements, as they always seemed to go out of their way to inconvenience him almost every day. Not even waiting for a full day after a mission. Grumbling, he rose from his chair and gathered his things, waving goodbye to Genji as he left and got away from the sound of the news.

* * *

Winston's lab was always messy and disorganized, this time no exception, as he was conducting another one of his experiments. However, instead of trying to work on a shield generator or tackling anything related to time-displacement, he was trying to get a training bot to be invisible. Not something he would usually be doing, but the Scientist didn't have the luxury of being free to choose projects. It was, unsurprisingly, difficult. Frustrating, as well.

Taking the schematics and physical possession of a "Stealth-Boy" the Wastelander had given to him, he reverse-engineered the technology and tried to make his own version so that it could be fielded with agents in future missions. Cloaking technology, especially of this caliber, is certainly something he would be a fool to pass up on. It only made Winston more interested as to what other pieces of technology the Courier possessed from this supposed "other world". It certainly wasn't like anything he's seen, before. Or, that's what he thought, at first.

The fact that it used a form of actual radiation to encompass the user in a stealth field was very concerning and made him speculate more on how vastly different Nathan's technology operated compared to theirs. It might be a long time before he could create a proper prototype to test with organic subjects, but he's not going to sacrifice safety anytime soon.

"Okay, Athena," Winston said to the AI assisting him for the experiment. "Activate the field."

Hearing the energy surge through, the bot's metal form shimmered before a cloaking field encompassed it with crackling electricity. Not entirely, however, as parts of its body were still visible, the field of transparency wavering. Winston rubbed his furry chin as he pondered what the problem could be.

"All right, you can shut it off now," he requested, the cloaking field then dissipating in an electric fizzle. "How are the readings this time?"

"An increase of the power output by 66% is still insufficient for the cloaking field," Athena answered, holographic charts appearing in front of Winston. "Maximum amount of surface area affected by the cloaking field: 35%."

That only made him puff out in frustration as he went over to the nearby workbench and looked over the notes again. Cycling through the papers and scanning over them. His eyes then fell onto an actual Stealth-Boy, picking it up and taking a close look at the strange device. The renowned genetically-modified Gorilla scientist confused by how such an unwitting, oddly-designed object could perform such a complex function.

"Reverse engineering a machine with a vacuum tube is more complicated than I thought…" he remarked, making note of the strange choice of hardware it had. One of the first things that struck him odd and make an internet search to double-check.

He then heard a knock at the door and turned around to see Nathan walking in with a less than amused expression.

"You wanted to see me?" the man asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Um, yes, I did," the Scientist cleared his throat. "Uh, glad you're here!"

Nathan didn't really believe that. Staring at the ape for several moments before huff out of his mouth.

"So, what's up?" he asked, wanting the conversation to move on.

"It's an experiment I'm conducting. Involving the stealth technology, you gave me. Thanks, for that, by the way!"

"What's the problem?"

"I'm having a… uh… bit of trouble with it."

"How so?"

Athena then began to speak on Winston's behalf, expediting the awkward conversation.

"We have been experiencing technical difficulties trying to successfully replicate and use a device as effective as your Stealth-Boy. Trials so far have developed sub-par results."

"'Sub-par' how?" the Courier asks.

"The subject, which is the training bot in front of you, has only been successfully cloaked an average of 26.7%."

"That low?"

The spectacled Gorilla spoke up this time. "We believe it may be an issue of the power source, but no matter how high we raise the output, the results are still lacking."

The man looked at the ape, then at the training bot. He walked over to it, his hands trying to feel for an opening. Not a second later, he found it and swung it open, exposing the insides to see a mess of wires and circuits boards. There was a device latched to the middle, that had a cable that ran down to the floor and snaked across to an outlet on the nearby wall. That gave him a clue.

"What power source are you using?" he asked.

"We've decided to plug it into an electrical outlet and control its power output," the Gorilla explained.

"Why? These things weren't designed to use electricity from a plug."

"I can see that now, but I'm rather hesitant on using a nuclear power source for the device. Could lead to some unwanted side-effects."

He looked back at the exposed panel, seeing the cable dangle from it. It looked weird like that. Cumbersome. Would've been better to attach a battery to it, which was already its original design.

"Wait," Brin let out. "Weapons in this world use fusion cells, right? Like the kid's pink handgun?"

"'Kid?'" Winston asked, pushing up his glasses.

"Song."

"Oh, yes, her pistol uses fusion cells along with some of the other weapons in our arsenal."

"And fusion is a clean source of energy. Or, at least as clean as it can be with radiation, right?"

"You would be fair in that assumption."

"Then why not just slap a fusion cell or two with your device and have it be powered that way? If it's good enough to be used in a handgun, why not this?"

Winston's face scrunched up, assessing the validity in what Nathan was proposing to him. In a way, it made sense; Hotwiring what were essentially batteries to his device to power it would be simple, and while it was still a form of radiation it shouldn't cause any significant damage. Pulse weapons are constantly held by their users and there was little to no fallout ejected from them. It didn't hurt them if they were on the other side of the business end. He was more trusting of those batteries than whatever power sources the device originally used if the notes were any warning. He's surprised he didn't think of this solution earlier with how simple it is.

"I suppose that could work," the Scientist stated, at least pleased to find a somewhat feasible solution. "I would actually like to test this hypothesis of yours, but I don't have any fusion cells with me, right now. You're already here so, uh, can you-?"

"You want me to fetch you some fusion cells do you?" the Courier finished the thought for him, almost automatically as he gave him a deadpan gaze.

"Yes! Uhm, if you're fine with it, of course. You sound busy. Er, I can ask someone else if you'd like."

Winston smiled sheepishly as he suggested that, Nathan just staring at him. The tall bearded man then sighed as he brought up his Pip-Boy and turned a knob to make the screen blink.

"I ain't got anything better to do," he said, eyes still on the screen. "Can you point me in the right direction?"

"Head to the quartermaster, near the armory," Winston explained. "Just tell him I'm running an experiment and he should give you what I need."

"Right. I'm heading off then.

"Great! Uh, thanks."

Nathan only lazily raised his left hand as he walked out of the lab and made his way to the armory. Thankfully, he knew where it was as it was one of the first places he scoped out in the base when he was given "freedom" after being contracted. He doesn't remember there being a quartermaster, however, shrugging it off as possibly someone he didn't meet yet.

Only when he got there did he learn he was wrong, and now regretting taking up the task for the ape while he explained it to the diminutive Swedish head engineer - now revealed quartermaster. The Swede seemed displeased with the Californian's presence there.

"So, you want me to hand over some of our pulse ammunition to you, which you will promptly give to Winston, who plans to use it for an experiment involving one of your doohickeys?" Torbjörn recounted, his face ever skeptical as he stared at the taller man – at the same eye level somehow – through a booth that acted as a stand for the armory with a wall of weapons behind him.

"Yeah, that's that gist of it," Nathan responds, his eyes drifting to the dwarf's legs. "Are you standing on a raised platform?"

"Don't change the subject! Now answer me this: Why should I hand over some of our ammunition to you?"

"I thought I told you."

"I got that part. No, why should I hand them over to  _you_?"

Nathan's eyes narrowed at the Swede, out of confusion rather than malice.

"I've been here for weeks," he explained. "I've gone out on a few missions with your co-workers, and they weren't exactly a walk in the park. I had to save their asses in some cases and they had to save mine. What else is this about? Bastion?"

"Nope, that Omnic has nothing to do with what we're discussing," the Engineer dismissed, waving a metal hand. "I feel like you need to prove yourself before I hand them off to you."

"Prove myself? They're essentially batteries. I don't see how taking them from one place to another would be a problem. I would know."

"I know you can walk. It's just that we're in a bit of a supply problem given our dicey spot in the world, today. As you can imagine, I'm not enthusiastic about handing off some of our precious ammo to you just so Winston can run some experiments. They might get lost and pulse ammunition is expensive."

"Are you calling me a klutz or a thief?"

"We'll see after I give you a simple task."

Not even a second after he said that did Brin begin to roll his eyes, folding his left arm across his chest and using it to support the other arm palming his face. Seems like he couldn't get away from people asking errands of him as much as he couldn't get away from the intercoms. Reminding him of times in the Mojave where he would go on to do one chore for one person and come back having done three. He didn't want to go back to the Gorilla empty-handed, however. He already said "yes".

"I should've known," Nathan groaned, raising his head up with a scowl. "What do you want?"

"I'm glad you asked," Torbjörn said with a shit-eating grin Nathan wanted to punch. "You see, I also have some projects of my own. A different field from Winston's but still important, nonetheless. I need you to get some resources for me."

"Anything specific?"

"I was getting to that. The storage warehouse that we have on base should have what I need. Go there and retrieve me some scrap."

"Scrap? As in random bits of junk?"

"Junk, metal, spare parts, anything that I can use to build something useful. I'm going to need… ten containers of scrap. How you get them here, I don't care."

If Torbjörn was asking his friends or anyone else on the base, they probably would've gone off merrily and do all the hard work for the dwarf. The Wastelander, however, was quick to speak up against the arrangement.

"Ten boxes of scrap?" the Courier questioned. "Are you sure you're going to use them all?"

"What do you mean?" the Engineer responded, eyeing the taller man.

"First, you didn't really specify how big the containers should be, so I might end up bringing you more than you would need. Might make your workshop a bit more packed and cluttered than it should be. And I thought engineers don't waste unnecessarily?"

Nathan knew he wasn't so much as helping the Engineer better plan his workload as he was making sure his own wasn't so much. Gathering ten nondescript boxes of random shit didn't sound all that great. Negotiating the arrangement was only natural for someone like him.

Torbjörn still eyed the man, seeming annoyed. Or angry. Nathan couldn't really tell as he's never seen him in any other state.

"Hmm, I see your point," the Engineer admitted, stroking his beard with his real hand. "In that ten is too small of a number for someone as resourceful as me. So, bring me  _fifteen_ boxes of scrap!"

"You've got to be kidding," the Courier responded, his plan backfiring.

"Try to weasel your way out of the job and I'll make it  _twenty-five_! Now, chop-chop! They better be big and filled to the brim, or you aren't getting those cells."

Nathan's brow furrowed, giving the one-eyed dwarf a dirty look before he turned around and went on his way to find some scrap. Grumbling all the while. And to think he was done with this.

* * *

Making another trip throughout the base, Nathan found the storage area deeper within the Watchpoint. The area was rather secluded from the rest of the base, noting how he didn't see that many personnel walking around or even the lights functioning where he went, whether out of disrepair or disuse. It didn't seem to store anything like weapons or missile salvos, just crates of unseen contents stacked high across metal scaffoldings. The area has seen better days with dust everywhere, some of it clouding around wherever his boots fell. Even had to turn on his Pip-Boy light as it was getting dim, the only other sources of light being warehouse windows near the roof and letting some of the Mediterranean sunshine in through the cloudy glass panes.

As he walked along the aisle of the scaffolding he observed some interesting pieces of non-metallic junk. Ration packets and MRE's, office equipment, medical supplies, and what appeared to be a set of posters. He didn't pay too much time to them as he walked by, concerned with more pressing tasks at hand. Rounding another aisle did he finally find a corner occupied with piles and crates full of scrap, junk, and metal that probably required him to be inoculated after handling. Conveniently, there was a flatbed cart just a couple of meters away from it. It didn't have wheels, but pressing the big power button on the handle made it whir to life as a blue glow from its four corners lifted it off the ground. Even something as simple as a cart had to float.

"Time to get to work…" Nathan said to no one in particular, hearing his own voice echo throughout the large room.

It was a simple job, gathering boxes and filling them with whatever stuff he could find. To the brim, as per the request. The boxes were old, white cardboard that had the Overwatch symbol on the sides, some of them crusty and wet but the dwarf didn't specify container quality. This wasn't his shit, so the Courier wasn't meticulous at all as he unceremoniously threw them in; If it looked metallic and useful it went in the boxes. However, as the Waster picked through the piles and felt the cold metal parts touch and leave his palms, he felt a strange nostalgia wash over him, as if reminiscing picking up scrap. Well, reminiscing wasn't the right word as that usually implied pleasant thoughts, not going through centuries-old ruins and stuffing random junk into his pack. But there was something about going back to the Lucky 38, Novac, or any of the safehouses he "owned" throughout the Mojave and just offloading the day's catch. Spending the night at his workbench and trying to concoct something useful before going to bed. If he was back home in his own little bunker, he would be careful and delicate to where he placed the little pieces of scrap and organize them, so he could easily utilize them when the need arose. He always had a surplus of repair kits.

After around ten-to-fifteen minutes of finding more "quality" scrap, the cart finally full of the needed items. A few of them had to be stacked on top of each other as the bed ran out of space. Nathan was just glad to be done and over with it, as this was boring and monotonous. What else did he expect from fetching something as simple as discarded parts? Unless he planned to build a bunker from rusted, corrugated metal, these types of jobs were hardly interesting.

Getting on with it and pushing the cart forward, he lazily drifted along the aisle as he leaned against the handle. Nathan looked around, once more, seeing the same style crate and boxes lining the shelves. As he passed another aisle and looked to his left, he spotted something shimmering in the low light. It looked like gold, at first, but upon closer inspection did he see that it was a hat. A dark-blue cap with half the insignia of a golden gear on the front. He reached over to it and grabbed the cap by its ripped-up brim, clearly been through some use. Not the worst he's seen.

"Doesn't look half bad," he admitted, flicking the dust off it before fitting it atop his head.

With his new piece of apparel, he kept carting through the aisle but found himself interrupted increasingly by the sight of interesting trinkets. Deciding to take his time as he perused through the aisle as he was sure his clients can wait a bit. Some of the more interesting things he found were brightly designed books, odd-looking clothing, and boxes of what appeared to be holiday decorations. What specifically some of them were, the Waster didn't have a clue. Then, as he was about to finally leave the aisle and make his way to the exit, his Pip-Boy's light glistened off a shiny, beige surface. His eyes darted to it out of instinct and he would've kept walking if the sight of it didn't make him stop in his tracks. Leaning in and raising his left wrist to get a better view, he saw the laminated, wooden shell of an acoustic guitar. Six strings and all. Letting go of the cart, he reached in with both hands and grabbed the body on either side, pulling forward and knocking some things around. Feeling the hollow wood and its strings shake with each reverb. Finally, he got it out from the shelves, completely covered in a thick layer of dust. Nathan blew it off, patting it away and making it cloud the space around him. After that, he flipped it and took a good look at its front. It was in pretty good condition.

Holding the guitar, wrapping his fingers around the neck and feeling the metal strings rub against his calloused skin. Curious, he plucked the thickest string on the guitar, listening to it let out a single note before it faded into the air. The Wastelander thought about doing more with it, but he still had a job to do, thinking about that as he put the stringed instrument back where he found it.

"Nah, not now," he remarked, making a mental note of where he found it.

Suddenly, he noticed a faint blue glow shining off the guitar wood from behind his shoulder. Surprised, he turned around and came face to face with a floating, dome-shaped robot. It had a blue paint job over its body, hovered with thrusters that propelled a blue substance, and blue eyes that appeared to widen as two metal flaps on the sides of its head flipped up. Its "eyes" then turning into arrows pointing to the center of its visor, it flew away and went behind a set of boxes. It was out of view, but he could hear it was just behind the boxes, with a hushed voice talking to it.

"Snowball!  _N_ _ǐ_ _z_ _à_ _i zuò shénme?!_ " the hushed voice said behind the boxes, in a language that sounded vaguely familiar if he remembered anything from those Pre-War propaganda films.

"Hey!" Nathan called out. "Who's there?"

After a few moments where silence hung in the air, there was movement again and he saw two sets of eyes pop up from the side. The first being the robot's blue lights, and the second being brown eyes behind thick black-rimmed eyeglasses. The person then got out of cover with the robot, now revealing herself in the dim light. She had brown hair, a blue tank top, and black sweatpants topped with a pair of light blue slippers. Her hair was tied into a bun with a hairpin that had a red pommel and a snowflake charm hanging from it with a chain. The other thing on her that was red was her face, having been caught.

She cleared her throat, before displaying a sheepish smile.

"Uh, hiya!" she waved with a heavy accent, still trying to feign that smile. "I-I apologize for my friend here. He's not very respectful of people's personal space."

She then shot a glare over to her robotic companion, whose eyes proceeded to "roll".

"I see," Nathan said, noting the woman's short stature when he looked down at them both. "May I ask what you were doin' skulking around here?"

"Oh, I was just going to get something for some work of mine. Wasn't expecting to find anyone else here."

"Well, I won't keep you, then, Ms…"

"Mei-Ling Zhou. But you can call me Mei!" announcing her name with a friendly cheer in her voice, beaming. Nathan perked an eyebrow before swiftly nodding and pushing the cart forward.

"Well, Ms. Zhou, I'll leave you be then-"

"Actually, can you help me with something really quick?"

Nathan bowed his head and winced under the dim light, before looking up to address the woman.

"Yes?"

"I'm really sorry if this seems like a bother," the lady started apologizing before specifying what she needed. "But what I actually need is out of my reach. You seem tall enough. So, can you get it for me, please? If you can and have the time for it, of course."

"Where is it?" he groaned, already wanting her to get to it.

"It's actually right above you. The machine right there!"

She pointed over his head and looked up to the scaffolding to see a dome-shaped machine at the edge. That blue drone of hers then floated up next to the device and "gestured" to it, further confirming what she said. Reaching up, his fingertips gripped the metallic surface and brought it into his palms. It wasn't too heavy, and he soon presented it to the shorter woman who took it with glee.

"Thank you very much!" she graciously said to him, dusting off its hull and examining it.

However, after she did, her eyes drifted to the taller man who was patting his dust off his body.

"You're Nathan, aren't you?" she asked, observing him.

"What gave it away?" he asked, patting dust off his hands.

"Winston told me about you when I got here. It's very nice to meet you!"

Nathan just looked at her, noting how bubbly and cheery she seemed even though they only met just a minute earlier. If Winston did tell her about him, then he certainly wasn't expecting such a friendly attitude.

"Likewise, ma'am," he was pretty sure she was younger than him but still decided to be formal.

"Where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?" she enquired.

"I'm going to hand off all this scrap to Lindholm. After that, I'm heading off to the Gorilla."

"Oh, I was going to Winston, as well. That's why I was looking for this device. Maybe we can go together?"

"Do you have anywhere to be?"

"Just Winston's."

Nathan just looked at her as he pushed the cart forward. Then just shrugged as he looked ahead, again.

"Sure."

And so, the two humans plus one drone walked through the storage area and back out into the rest of the Watchpoint side-by-side at a leisurely pace. They did converse as they walked, or more precisely, Nathan listened to Mei go on as he silently pushed the cart. He was paying attention to her, listening to what she had to say. It was just that he had little to say or add on to the conversation other than a few words of acknowledgment. Not to be impolite, he just really didn't have much to talk about. Subjects he'd want to talk about, at least. That wasn't to say some of the things she had to say weren't interesting.

"So, where do you fit in Overwatch?" Mei asked, looking up at him.

"Was contracted by your furry friend, went on a few missions with the others," Nathan answered to some degree, slightly turning his head to address her. "You?"

"I'm a climatologist. I study the Earth's climate and work to make technology to help stabilize it in afflicted regions."

"Wait, so why are you with Overwatch, then?"

Mei, and her robot, then looked up at him in bewilderment, as if that response surprised her.

"I worked on one of the Ecopoints," she explained, an eyebrow raised. "Before Overwatch was shut down."

"Oh, did you?" the Waster let out, then trying to come up with a response as cover. "Sorry, my mind slipped. I'm just a bit tired."

"It's okay, I understand. Angela told me what had happened recently, and I can see why."

"Did she?"

"Yes, and thank you for saving her last night! I don't know what I would do with myself if she was gone."

"Erh, you're welcome, Ms. Zhou. Didn't know you were good friends with Dr. Ziegler. How is she, by the way?"

"Oh, she's doing well, thank you for asking. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear you want to know about her well-being. And please, just call me Mei."

After that little exchange, they had just reached the armory and Nathan carted up the heavy load of scrap to the booth. Torbjörn was there, still on the platform that elevated his height, but was engrossed in a holopad with machinery on the screen. Nathan knocked on the counter to get the dwarf's attention.

"Hey, I got your scrap, Blondie," he said, piles of junk next to him.

"Did you?" the Swede asked, turning in his seat as he looked up from the pad. "It better be a good haul or I'm-"

The Engineer's eyes went wide as his eyes fell upon the piece of headwear on Nathan's head, the man with the hat noticing the reaction. Suddenly, Torbjörn jumped up and reached for it, but Nathan swiftly stepped away out of his reach.

"Where did you get that?!" Torbjörn demanded, holding out his real arm.

"Found it in storage," Nathan answered, squinting at him.

"Gimme that!"

"Why?"

"Just gimme it!"

"Get me those fusion cells you promised, and I'll happily relinquish it."

Without a second thought, the Swede hopped of his platform and went to the back. They could hear him rummaging for something, the sound of metal falling and crashing as if he was in a rush. Then, just a few seconds later, the Quartermaster was back at the stall and presented an ammo box presumably full of fusion cells down onto the counter with a resounding thump. Nathan grabbed the ammo box by the handle and took the hat off to give it back, having it snatched out of his hand a split-second later. Torbjörn turns in his seat, his back to them, and hunches over as he looks at the hat in his hands. As Nathan turns around with what he came for, he could hear him mumbling something but couldn't make it out as he was already on his way.

"What was that about?" he asked aloud, examining the ammo box.

"It might have something to do with that hat you were wearing," Mei answered, looking back at the armory over her shoulder. "I think I saw him wear it once."

"When?"

"A long time ago. Back in the Swiss base. Err, when we still had a Swiss base."

Nathan glanced at Mei for a moment, speculating what she meant by that. Sounded like something worth searching up later on the Google thing.

"By the way, Nathan, where are you from?" Mei asked, bringing his attention back to her.

"Uh, California," he responded, hesitant on the wording.

"Oh, I've been there before! Took a flight that had to stop at Los Angeles once. Is that where you're from?"

"No, I'm from a town very far north of the Boneyard."

"'Boneyard'?"

"Oh, uh, it's a colloquialism."

"It sounds like it refers to the buildings, does it? I don't know, L.A. looks pretty nice even after the Crisis."

"Right."

If only she knew he was referring to a different war. Odd that she didn't…

* * *

Back at the lab, Winston was furiously typing onto his computer as he compiled the latest mission reports he's received over the past few days and began to look over all of them, taking a break from the stealth experiment until Nathan came back with those fusion cells. He was gone for quite some time, afraid that the Waster had gotten lost or was sidetracked by something. However, he heard someone walking into his lab and got off his seat to look over the railing. He was a bit surprised when he looked down to see the tall, scarred walking alongside a fellow scientific colleague. Mei seemed to be happily explaining something to the tall man, who listened to her as he held an ammunition case. With some haste, the Gorilla jumped onto the hanging tire from the roof and plopped down to the floor before walking up to them.

"Hey, Winston!" Mei was the first to greet him, holding a device up to him. "We got the things you needed."

"That's great," the fellow scientist stated, taking the spherical object in on hand. "Ready to get the experiment started?"

"Of course. Let me just get my things from upstairs. Let's go Snowball!"

With a content beeping, the drone then followed her out of the lab floor and up the stairs. Winston and Nathan's eyes following her as she went up before the man addressed the ape and held up the box to him.

"Here's your ammo," he merely said.

"Uh, thanks," Winston took the box, holding it against his chest with the arm holding the sphere. "It's good to see you're getting along with Mei, given the circumstances."

"What do you mean by that?" Nathan questioned, genuinely curious what that odd statement meant.

"Oh, it's just that I thought… Because of where Mei's from I thought you might be, understandably, somewhat upset."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Uh, she's Chinese. That doesn't bother you?"

Nathan's eyes only narrowed, looking up to see if the Chinese woman was overhearing them.

"You'd think I give a shit?" he was now questioning.

"Well, given what had happened in your world - between the U.S. and China - and the outcome, I thought you would've had some strong opinions."

The Courier let out a puff of air as if he was about to laugh at what the ape just said.

"It's been over two-hundred years since it happened. People stopped caring about who-bombed-who in less time than that. They had more pressing matters."

"So, you're not mad at them? In the slightest?"

"I think everyone was stupid, but they've been dead for so long. There's no point. Even if I was, why would I blame her?"

Nathan crossed his arms over his chest and let out another puff, shaking his head.

"Now if you don't mind me asking," he started, his head raising to look Winston in the eye. "Dr. Zhou told me that you informed her of me when she arrived. Talking to her, it sounded like you didn't tell her much? How come?"

Before Winston could respond, his eyes drifted upward as well, watching to see if the Climatologist was there.

"I… Felt it would've been better if I didn't tell everyone answering the 'Recall' about your origin," the pseudo-commander explained, his eyes somewhat uncertain. "Only select individuals, such as the few that were here when our numbers were small. She's just a climatologist, so I don't think Mei needs to be bothered by information like that. Some of us are still having trouble believing it. Why, is there a problem?"

"Nah," the Courier dismissed. "She just seemed a bit friendlier than most. Thought something was off when she introduced herself so casually."

"Mei's always been like that. She's very positive about things. It's a nice change of pace having her around."

The sound of footsteps brought their attention to the stairs, seeing Mei and Snowball climbing down the steps. A huge tank of a blue substance strapped to her back with a hose device coming out from it.

"Ready to start the experiment, Winston!" the Chinese woman beamed.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave you guys be," the Californian remarked, nodding to Winston and then Mei before turning around to leave.

"See you later, then, Nathan!" Mei called, holding up her hand and craning her fingers.

The man lazily waved back, already out onto the Gibraltar rock.

He wasn't going to lie, it felt odd talking with someone so casually and nonchalantly like that. Someone he just met, especially. The Courier mulled over that thought, trying to figure out whether the Climatologist really didn't mind having him as company. She was just all smiles and bright eyes when she was walking alongside him. Mei did mention she had talked with Angela beforehand.

'Maybe that has something to do with it?' he thought, noticing as the sun had already set and it was starting to get dark around the base.

After a few moments of walking in the dim light, he just guffawed and shook his head side-to-side. Realizing the ridiculousness of trying to deconstruct someone just acting friendly to him. Wasn't fair to that person, either. Too bad a dose of suspicion helped save his life, before, like a prescription set on a schedule.

Then, as if it was haunting him like a specter, his stomach growled, and he felt the tinge of pain from being hungry. It was starting to get old. Clutching his stomach and realizing he literally did not eat anything for the entire day, he was now tasked with finding something to eat. Thankfully, a task of his own volition.

* * *

The mess hall was always busy in the nights as people with trays got their food and gathered at the tables scattered around the large space. Socializing and eating with co-workers and friends. Discussing anything, from missions, errands, holovids, or even their lives outside of Overwatch. It was a pleasant place to be with others.

Since the organization was still understaffed for several reasons, the cafeteria wasn't a five-star restaurant. Not that it ever was, but the quality could certainly use some improvement. It was enough, though, given what they had. Besides, one of the patrons wasn't exactly used to quality standards.

Nathan wandered into the mess just expecting to pick up some food, chow down, and get out, not wanting to stick around for long. As fate has it, he met up with the Cowboy who also had similar plans for the nights. Consequently, they ended up sharing a table. Didn't have anywhere else to go really. How they both ended getting stuck with each other, Brin wasn't quite sure.

"Let me get this straight," McCree said, with a cup of a fizzy beverage as he sat opposite of Nathan on one of the tables. "People still use lever-actions and single-action revolvers where you're from? Military, too?"

"Yup," the New Californian answered, taking a bite out of a circular, frosted pastry that had a hole in the middle for dessert. He liked it very much. "Don't you use that revolver, though?"

"Yeah, but she's a custom-made, double-action, hard-hitting magnum. Not a leftover from the Civil War. Don't get me wrong, I like the old Single Action Army's, but I wouldn't take 'em to a battlefield anytime soon."

"I can respect that, but some of the best fighters I know didn't mind using them or the lever actions. Hell, they probably excelled using them. Rangers, especially. Though, Rangers can make anything be lethal. Man, these 'donuts' are really good."

"Yup, didn't know they still served 'em at dinner time. I prefer the ones with the frosting and sprinkles. Not a big fan of the ones with crème in the center."

Nathan scarfed down another donut, the sprinkles crunching under his teeth as the frosting covered his tongue and sent a tinge of delight down his spine. It felt nice to munch down on a pastry that wasn't in packaging for over two-hundred years. Wasn't nearly as sweet, either. If there was one thing about this world he wouldn't complain about, it was the food.

"Speaking of antiques," the Waster said as he took a bite out a burger, an odd thing to combine with donuts. "What's with your get up? I've been to three cities in this world and I haven't seen anyone dress the way you have."

The Cowboy grinned with some pride as he took a bite out of a burger of his own. "What can I say? I'm one of a kind."

"Except I know plenty of people who've dressed like that, and you dress exactly like the main protagonist of a Western film… They're a thing here, right?"

"Wait, you have Westerns from where you're from?"

"They're over two-hundred years old, but yeah. I watched a few when I was a kid."

"…Huh…"

As McCree thought over the implication of another dimension having an identical genre of movies, as if that was the most concerning thing, Nathan reached to his back pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes. He had already gotten one stick into his mouth and was about to light it until the fellow smoker interrupted him.

"You can't do that here, partner," Jesse stated, straight-faced.

"What? Why not?" Brin questioned, a lit flame mere inches from the tip.

"Policy."

With his shooting hand, he pointed to behind Nathan. He turned around and saw on the wall was a placard with art on it that depicted a cigarette with a smoke cloud coming from the end. A red circle with a slash in the middle over it. If imagery wasn't enough, there were also black, bold words beneath it saying, "No Smoking" in all caps. It also said the same thing in a bunch of other languages, Spanish, German, and some others he couldn't recognize. As if the point wasn't clear, enough.

"Great," he lamented, casting the flame away and putting the smoke back into the pack.

Suddenly, something slapped him on the back and nearly knocked the pack from his hand. He didn't need to turn around as a boisterous voice sounded out.

" _Ödländer_ , great to see you!" Reinhardt declared as he walked around the table and plopped himself down next to McCree with a tray of food in his large hands. "And you too, Jesse!"

"Howdy," the Cowboy greeted. "How are things, old-timer?"

"All is well, thank you for asking. I came here to see how things are with you both. Especially you, Brin."

Nathan looked up, one eyebrow raised as he regarded the Old German Giant. Trying to gauge why he said that.

"Is that so?" the Waster questioned.

" _Ja_. I heard about Oasis. How 'heated' things got near the end. You must give me the details of your mission. I am excited to hear about it!"

"Really? Wasn't exactly a smashing success. For starters, Hakim – the guy we were supposed to get – has a big hole in his chest now. Almost lost Dr. Ziegler, too."

"But you still saved her, no? You overcame your enemies and denied them from taking another one of own. I should thank you for saving our Doctor, if Angela hasn't done so, already."

"You're welcome… I guess?"

"Now, if you do not wish to speak of Oasis, do you've any other tales to share? A good story to share over a good meal? I hear it helps with the digestion."

The Courier had to hand it to the Crusader with how eager he was to listen to stories as if he was a couple of decades younger. He still wasn't why it had to be him he wanted to hear stories from so much. Probably had something to do with him being the ' _Ödländer'._  For a second, he did think about what he could tell him. Something in his experience that had action, peril, or glory that the older man seemed to crave for. That last one might be a bit hard to come up with, though, but the first two? Mojave was more than generous.

"I think I might have one," he stated, adjusting his seat and taking a sip from a can of root beer he was just introduced to, reminding him of fine sarsparilla. "Not sure if you would know, but radiation can have some rather adverse effects on the fauna. Make 'em dangerous, much more dangerous."

"Oh?" Reinhardt let out, listening attentively to every word. "What creatures inhabit your world, then? Are there 'dragons' that prey upon the people?"

The Tribal's head snapped to that word – Dragon – trying to remember what they were supposed to look like. Thinking back to some of those artistic books he looked at when he was younger. He smiled a tad as he instantly thought of something that matched the description.

"Well, now that you mention it, there is one mutant critter that bears some similarities."

Reinhardt's face lit up as he leaned in, eager to listen. Even McCree expressed some interest into what was coming next.

"They're larger, faster, and stronger than any man, have thick scaly hides that even hunting rounds like .45-70 will have trouble with, and long claws that they use to rip their prey to shreds. And I had to wipe out entire packs of 'em."

"Really? What were these monsters called?"

"Fittingly enough, and not very creatively, 'Deathclaws'."


	27. Just Another Errand

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean Sea, Europe

2076

The prison block was sparse, only a few personnel patrolling the area as Nathan strolled through the hallway to meet up with Bastion, again – realizing he hasn't visited the Omnic at all since he got back. Felt it would be nice to catch up with him and see if they were doing right by him.

Walking past the cells, he noticed armed guards escorting a man in a grey-blue prison uniform, two at the back and one leading the group. The prisoner was the Talon operative, almost unrecognizable without all the duct tape over his body. Glumly staring at the restraints around his wrists. His eyes then peered to his left to see Nathan walking by and glaring at him. The prisoner then quickly averted his eyes, the tall man still eyeballing him as they passed by until they were out of sight.

About to reach where they kept Bastion, he turned to face the glass pane and greet the large Omnic. Instead, an empty cell and an open door greeted him. His mind started to race about where Bastion was or what happened to him while he was gone. Almost automatically, they raced to the worst assumptions. He quickly turned on his heels, hellbent to figure out what happened to his Omnic friend, but almost bumped right into Mirembe. How convenient.

"Brin, I-"

"Where the hell's Bastion?!" Brin questioned, cutting her off.

The security guard went from calm to alert in a split-second, tensing up and hovering her right hand over her hip. Keeping it close to her holster.

"Calm down!" Mirembe told him, backing away and holding up her free hand in front of her. "The Omnic is fine. I was just going to explain why it isn't here. So, can you please ease up, sir?"

Upon being told that nothing happened to Bastion, he complied, just a tad, and his face softened as his breathing became more regular. Mirembe also began to calm down, becoming somewhat less tense in his presence, but still wary.

"Due to a strain of resources and your recent capture of that prisoner," she began, Nathan's eyes hanging over her. "The Security Division felt it would've been in our best interest to let the Bastion Unit be free from its cell, especially since it hasn't posed any significant security issues. If you're wondering, Security-Chief Amari was the one who suggested this."

He didn't show it, but he was astonished by that information. To learn that Amari seemed to be disregarding how feared the Bastion Units were and was willing to let the big robot roam of its own volition. If that was what the plan was. She's become really trusting of that machine over a short span of time. It wasn't what he wanted to know, though.

"But where's Bastion?" he demanded once more.

"You're not the only person on base who's taken an interest in the Omnic," she responded, crossing her arms.

"What do you mean?" his suspicions only raised further.

"Doctor Mei-Ling Zhou, don't know if you know her, has taken it out for her own personal use the past couple of days. Even before you got back from Oasis. She's been using it as a 'research assistant' for some reason."

"He's been making friends? With Doctor Zhou?"

"I guess, sir."

Nathan was amused with the thought of that big robot – manufactured for war – helping the Chinese Climatologist. He imagined the bird was given a task, too. Created a funny image in his head. He made a mental note to remind himself to figure out what he should name it.

"Well, where did they head off to?" Nathan asked, his tone much more sociable than it was moments earlier.

"Winston's lab," Mirembe answered. "I'm sure you know the way."

* * *

Reaching the unkempt laboratory of the Gorilla in just a few minutes, the first thing Nathan sees is the large, armored hull of Bastion looking at the huge holographic screen of a world map and seemingly awestruck while that bird accompanied him on his shoulder. Only when Nathan got closer to him did the machine finally notice the visitor. The rather emotive robot was more than happy to see a friend. Before he could even greet him, the human felt a powerful metal arm wrap around his torso and squeeze him tight to the Omnic's chassis. Feeling the cold metal grinding and rubbing against his chest. The pressure crushing his back as a series of elated boops and beeps and whoos sounded off.

"It's good to see you, too," the man rasped out, patting a metal plate with a free-hand. "Looks like you learned the concept of hugging. Good for you."

"Ooo wzz ooo wee!" the Omnic responded, happy to hear the compliment.

"Uh… You can let me go now."

Brin was finally released from the giant robot's hug of death and took in a few gulps of air to recover. After he did so, he looked up at Bastion who looked down on him, still with that glimmer of curiosity in him. The yellow bird regarding him, as well.

"So, where's everyone?" Nathan asked, seeing Bastion all by himself. "I thought Dr. Zhou took you out to be an assistant."

"Poot chii ooo," Bastion responded, pointing up towards Winston's office.

"Really? What're they talking about?"

"Woo oo."

Puzzled, Nathan looked up at the office before going up to the staircase, Bastion following him. Getting to the second level, they walked over to the office space and could see through the doorway Winston and Mei huddled around his desk. However, unlike the bubbly and friendly woman he just met a day ago, she looked visibly upset. As Nathan got closer, he noticed Angela was there, too. By Mei's side and trying to comfort her. The Doctor took notice of the man entering the room.

"Nathan," Angela said, standing up but keeping a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Didn't expect to see you here so soon."

"I came here to check on Bastion," Nathan replied, pointing a thumb back at him. "What's going on?"

Winston looked at him before typing on his computer and bringing up a holoimage of a tower in the middle of a metropolitan area. Didn't look like the biggest building the Wastelander's seen in this world, but to him, it was still huge.

"This is Lijiang Tower," the Scientist explained. "Located in China. Something happened. I'm still trying to gather as much information as I can, but we might need to deploy a team there very soon."

"What exactly is happening over there?" Nathan questioned, wanting more answers if this was going to lead to what he thought it would.

"As I said, I'm still trying to gather as many details as I can, but I believe there is a hostage situation happening at the tower. Mei and I have some friends who work at Lijiang."

Nathan glanced over at the Chinese woman, who still hasn't said a word since he got here.

"Any idea who's behind it?" he asked, looking back at Winston.

"No, I'm not even sure if Talon is involved. I've already notified other agents to prep themselves for the mission. I was about to notify you but you're already here. So, are you willing to help?"

The Courier was only back for a day and he was about to be called back to action so soon. He didn't like it.

"I'd like to know a bit more before I throw myself into a hail of gunfire, again," he requested, reluctant to get back into another situation blind.

"I promise I'll try to have a full debrief by the time we're ready to move," Winston offered, sounding desperate. "I know it's a lot to take in so soon. But please know we must act fast, or people's lives will be on the line!"

'What's new?' he thought, keeping it in his head.

The Courier just stared at Winston, reluctant to take him up on his "offer". Already feeling tired from hearing about this mission alone. He looked to the side to see Mei sitting back down and holding her hand to face, a million worried thoughts going through her mind. He then met eyes with Angela, a solemn expression on hers as she tried to comfort her Climatologist friend.

"Do I really have a choice?" he muttered lowly, his shoulders sulking and shaking his head, before straightening up. "Goddammit… What do I need to do?"

"Gear up and head over to the hangar," the pseudo-commander instructed, getting back onto his computer. "You'll meet up with the other agents there."

Nathan silently nodded, turning around and walking past Bastion through the doorway. About to go downstairs

"Thank you for this, Nathan!" he heard Mei call out from behind, the gratitude in her tone a return to form for her.

The Courier paused at the top of the stairs for a split-second, before finally going down to the ground level and lightly running to his quarters to gear up.

* * *

The hangar was bustling with activity as security personnel and flight technicians scrambled all over the area as one of the MV-261 Orca's was being prepped for takeoff. Red and orange lights flashing, their light bouncing around the surrounding walls. Amidst all of it, Nathan stood out in his black armor as he made his way to the dropship. Making the Overwatch personnel part around him and some giving him a few uneasy stares. Gave him a lot of space for his wide gait.

In his left hand, he carried a small bag of gear he may need for the mission and in his right, he held All-American, the barrel up in the sky with an empty magwell. Safety first, of course. His M1911 was strapped to his thigh and bandoliers were splayed over his waist and armored torso, but were filled with 8mm Mauser rounds instead of the usual .45-70's, as the old Karabiner was slung over his shoulder. It felt good bringing something substantial for an operation.

Finally making it to the dropship, he saw McCree in front of the ramp taking drags from a cigar. When he noticed the armored man walking up to him, he tipped his hat.

"Took you long enough," McCree noted, taking a long, last pull from the cigar before throwing it to the ground and snuffing the flame out.

"Coming along?" Brin asked, climbing up the ramp.

"Me and then some."

Nathan immediately found out what he meant by that when he entered the cabin and saw two other agents occupying aircraft. The first being Genji, sitting on the booth table as he sharpened a short blade with a whetstone. The Waster was curious to see what the fellow cyborg was capable of, only seeing him fight once more than a month ago. The second, was that egg-shaped, pink "Power Armor" he also saw that day, but it was immobile as he saw someone doing maintenance on top of it. Presumably the pilot, he walked over to see someone in a skin-tight jumpsuit that was largely white around the legs and shoulders and blue around the torso and arms. There were metal bits and pink highlights that outlined areas of the suit, and a black, wavy material woven into the hips and shoulders. They were also some strange looking decals on the side of her thighs. He looked up to see a pale face with pink war paint staring back.

"Ah, shit…" he cursed, immediately recognizing who it was. "You're coming, too?"

"Yup," DVa answered haughtily, looking down at the tall man from her atop her machine. "Surprised?"

"In a way. Interesting power armor."

"It's a 'mech', not power armor."

"Whatever you say, kid."

The Pilot rolled her eyes before attending to her mech.

Leaving her to her duties, Nathan went over to the booth table and laid his gear and two rifles down, examining both weapons to see if they were combat-ready.

"Don't worry about her," he heard the Cowboy reassuring him, gesturing to the Mech Pilot. "She's a good kid. She knows how to handle herself in a fight."

"Anyone can, with armor like that," the Courier remarks, scoping the Karabiner to see if it's properly sighted. "I'm just afraid she might get in the way of things. This is a hostage situation, so why are we bringing a pink tank to resolve it?"

"You'd be surprised what she can do with that thing; Hana's a natural. Her shooting, though? Now that's a different story."

"I heard that!" Hana exclaimed, glaring at the poncho'd man.

"Meant nothing by it, cottontail," Jesse called back, smirking.

As the two had their banter, Nathan was still inspecting his gear, inserting a magazine into All-American and shaking it a few times to see if it locked in place. He heard more footsteps clambering onto the Orca and turned around to see Dr. Ziegler walking in, outfitted in her Valkyrie suit. Seeing her, the Courier felt a bit relieved knowing she'd be close-by in case he ever needed medical attention. In case anyone here did. That feeling of relief soon dissipated as he saw Winston climb onto the ship after Dr. Ziegler, now a bit aggravated knowing that he was coming along. He held a large rectangular, white weapon in his hand and had equipment protruding from his back. Not long after they got in, the ship's ramp closed, and they could feel it thrust into the air. Now, he was trapped with him.

"Greetings, everyone," the ape said, addressing every person in the cabin, even Nathan. "I wish we could've gathered under better circumstances, but this is the unfortunate nature of things. I'm sure all of you know why we're here? Let me further debrief you all on the situation."

He went over to the holodeck in the center of the cabin and connected a holopad to it. The other agents, including Nathan, gathered around the desk. Dr. Ziegler found herself at Nathan's side, again.

"Looks like we'll working together, again; Doesn't it, Doctor?" he asked, regarding her as he leans against the desk. "Sooner than I'd like."

"It appears so," she responded, taking a deep sigh. "I can only hope this will fare better than the last mission."

"Hopefully we'll get back home much sooner, too."

"Agreed."

All attention was then diverted to the center as the hologram above them flashed, morphing into a holographic model of the tower they were being sent to. Even able to see its "bones", the metal beams and foundations. Winston then cleared his throat as he began to debrief them.

"All right, team. As you may know, we are being sent in to diffuse a hostage situation currently occurring at Lijiang Tower. What some of you may not know is that Lijiang Tower is the workplace for Lucheng Interstellar, an aerospace company and dear friends of mine."

The image of a stylized "L" with a mass orbiting it then appeared. The Gorilla continued.

"While we have no confirmation that the hostage takers are associated with Talon, they are armed and dangerous. We also know that they have completely shut down the entire tower from entry. Local law enforcement is trying the best they can, but it looks like we'll have to be going in. So, here's the plan."

The model of the tower reappeared again, with a blinking dot following a line that leads to the middle of the tower, where it seemed to have open spaces.

"We'll first land on the western side of the tower, where Nathan, Genji, and Hana will drop off and head inside. Clearing any hostiles they encounter while rescuing hostages. On the eastern side, same deal but with McCree, Angela, and I. We'll meet up in the center and proceed to work our way through the tower and clear out as much as we can. But the hostages take priority."

"How many hostages do we have to worry about, Winston?" Angela asked.

"Luckily, it's only the people Lucheng offices that we have to worry about as the rest of the tower seems to have been evacuated. We get in, get the hostages out, then leave. Any questions?"

No one raised their hands but Nathan.

"Yeah, I got one," he said, thirsty for the details. "What kinda force are we expecting from these guys? Any heavy weapons? Emplacements? Anti-Air we should be worried about before droppin' in?"

"I'm still trying to get as much information as I can, but yes," Winston confirmed. "As I stated, they are armed and locked down the entire tower. So, we best prepare for whatever they have in store for us."

"That's a pretty great non-answer. At least we have a plan…"

Winston couldn't but help sympathize with that thought, sighing as he pushed up his glasses.

"Rest up everyone, we still have some time before we get there. When we do… Be ready."

* * *

_A few hours later…_

20 miles due west of Lijiang Tower, China, Asia

By the time the Orca had reached the skylines of the Chinese city the sun had already left, and it was dark over the cityscape. However, the sprawling metropolis showered the landscape with its own light, enough to blind anyone high above the clouds to witness such a spectacle. Even over the horizon, he could see the lights miles away.

This was the fourth city and the fourth country Nathan has visited within this world, and he stared out of the ramp's window almost in a sense of silent awe. Having only ever seen these cities from the ground, this was like watching an ocean of lights thousands of feet beneath him passing by. It wasn't the flashiness or the brightness that stood out to him, it was the absolute volume that astounded him. The lights stretching on for miles and miles on end. The brightness of New Vegas would only be a polyp to this huge city.

"Something catch your eye?" a synthetic voice prodded, Genji approaching him from the side.

"Never seen so many lights," the Waster explained, those red eyes still peering through the window. "Read about China in those Pre-War books. They talked about how huge their population was. Didn't realize their cities would reflect that."

"You should see the city where I'm from, back in Japan. Quite expansive, as well, but much cleaner."

"Is it dense?"

"Unbelievably so."

Silence then reigned between the two, listening to the cabin's humming. Both watching the sea of lights go by under their ship. The Waster's not looking at anything else, but Genji's peered under his green visor and peered to his helmeted head.

"I'm curious, Nathan," Genji expressed. "What happened to Japan during the Great War?"

"I'd assumed, like everyone else, they received their fair share of nukes," the Wastelander answered rather straightforwardly. "There were probably radioactive hurricanes, after that. I know California had something similar when it all went down, being up against the ocean. Beyond that? Not a clue. Same goes for everywhere else."

"Shame. Do you ever wonder how other places on the Earth are faring?"

"Not really. Saves me the headache."

They stood there in silence for a few minutes, again, watching the sea drift by.

"Attention, agents," Athena announced over the ship's intercom. "We are rapidly approaching Lijiang Tower. ETA: five minutes."

"You heard her, everyone," Winston called out, wiping his glasses clean before putting them back on. "It's now or never."

Hearing those words, everyone scrambled to prepare for the drop. The Courier went to retrieve his guns from the booth, loading the Mauser full of rounds and slinging it over his back. Then slamming a full magazine into All-American and chambering a 5.56 round. It felt good being with something familiar, again.

A loud mechanical noise from behind made him turn around and see the kid climbing into her mech through the back, the machine then standing up on its two legs and turning to face him. Seeing her in the cockpit and behind a turquoise shield. He didn't appreciate having those cannons in the same direction as his face.

"Think you can catch up with me?" she asked, a cocky smile on her face.

"We'll see, kid," he merely answered, walking to the door with the green carbine dangling around his waist. "Let's just focus on not screwing this up."

"You should say 'hi' to the stream!"

"The what?"

Suddenly, a gust of wind began rushing through the cabin as the ramp door opened. The sight of a large tower on the horizon – taller than the other buildings around it – getting closer and closer to them. In the middle of the spire was the opening that was discussed, metal beams crisscrossing around it but allowing enough of a space for the whale of a ship to squeeze through. He looked down at the base of the tower to see a collection of flashing lights and a crowd of people gathered and looking like ants. Many of the lights flashing blue and red. Seeing some spotlights among them, too. One of the beams going from the tower and directly at their dropship. Almost blinding him.

"Looks like the police spotted us," Nathan growled, trying to shield his eyes.

"I hope they know we're here to help," Winston remarked, a bit late.

They lost sight of the spotlights as the dropship flew through the opening and now encircled the middle level of the tower. Trying to fly over to the first landing zone.

"Okay first group, you're up!" their furry leader called out, calling them to the door.

They complied; Genji, Hana, and Nathan going up to the ramp and watching as the LZ came into view. When it did fully, they immediately saw figures on the open space. They were dressed in dark clothing and were clearly armed. They didn't look Talon, but that didn't excuse that they appeared to be pointing weapons at them.

"Wait, is that a-!"

Nathan didn't even get to finish his sentence as one of the figures launched a rocket at them, the projectile narrowly missing them as the dropship veered heavily to left and made some of the occupants lose balance. Quickly regaining it a second later, the agents opened fire on the men on the ground who fired back. DVa, a bit quick on her mechanical heels, jumped out of the dropship and flew her mech to the landing zone to take them head-on.

"Least we know they have fucking anti-air!" the Courier cursed, unslinging his sniper rifle and sighting it.

Scanning the area, he quickly guided his crosshairs to the first figure with the RPG and fired off the potent 8mm round to his throat. Making him drop to the ground in a pink mist. Cranking the bolt, his eyes darted to find another RPG. He does, Nathan sweeping the rifle to him, trying to keep the crosshair still while on a moving platform. Confident enough, he fires off another shot but instead of hitting his chest the round hits the warhead itself, causing the operator to explode and even affect others who were caught in the blast.

"Whoo! Nice one!" McCree congratulated over the gunfire.

With the narrow opening the man with the Mauser created, the dropship hovered closer to the ground only taking small-arms fire.

"We must press on! Go!" Genji shouted, hopping off the ship and expertly dispatching targets with shuriken.

"Be careful, all of you!" their Medic wished to them.

As soon as the Courier got his boots on the ground, the dropship flew away and rounded the building.

Immediately, the Courier was unleashing a hail of gunfire with his carbine and took out targets as he weaved through the incoming rounds. Even with the sound of the firefight encompassing them, he heard hurried footfalls to his right and saw a masked man running at him with a blade. Quickly, he batted the knife away with the barrel of his rifle and made the man stumble to the railing. The Courier then grabbed the man's arm and jacket before tripping him and throwing him off the tower. The man screaming as he tumbled through the air before it gradually became fainter.

Eventually, the agents overpowered the enemy forces – either killing them off or making them retreat further into the building. The three then regrouped in the middle of the balcony.

"I will go left and strike them from behind," Genji stated, gesturing to another entrance near the larger one. "We should meet up at the control center with the other group."

"Watch yourself, Shimada," Nathan advised.

" _Yoshi!_ "

With that, the ninja dashed off and Nathan and Hana rushed up to the front entrance. The man taking cover by the left side, the girl staying close-by.

"Man, Genji's so cool," Hana said, rather unexpectedly. "Hope I get more footage of him."

"Uh, let's not get distracted, kid," the older man requested of her, furrowing his eyebrows under that mask.

' _Footage? The hell is she talking about?_ '

Shaking his head, he exits the cover with the muzzle raised and sees the room. It's white and mostly clean, the first thing coming into view is a receptionist desk in front of him and a space module on the right, where the rest of the hallway stretched out onto. Leading to the center.

"I'll go through here," Nathan said, pointing to the doorway behind the desk. "Can you handle the hallway?"

"I'm in a mech," she answered, her face scrunched up.

"I know you are. I meant that… Augh, let's just move up. They're waiting."

The helmeted man hops over the desk with the rifle still pointing forward. Hana marched her mech down to the hallway, her "feet" thumping along the ground.

Climbing a small set of stairs, he was about to go left until gunfire from that direction made him take cover against the black wall. Machine gun fire chipping away at the wall, Nathan being too suppressed to fire back. However, as the gunmen kept firing a series of turquoise holograms forming a diamond-esque hexagon appeared in front of him and all the rounds they were firing at him seemed to dissipate like dust – surprising all of them. Taking advantage of their confusion, the Courier exited from cover and shot at them both. As they fell to the ground he looked back to see there, her mech projecting that hologram until it too faded away.

"You're welcome!" she said, another silly grin on her face.

"Kid, eyes up front," he merely said.

Instantly, rifle fire started to bounce off her mech and with an annoyed grunt, she rocketed off to meet the threat and blast them with her cannons. As she did so, Nathan ran to where the dead gunners were and saw the control room in full view with hostiles all over it engaging the Pink Mech. Taking cover behind a large panel with a screen on it, he fired at them and took down those that the girl in the pink mech didn't get to first. Suddenly, a group of armed men spills out from the hallway on the far side, Nathan thinking they were reinforcements. That thought went away when a giant gorilla in white armor flew in and began to swipe at them with strong arms, sending them flying. Nathan then saw McCree come up from behind him with Dr. Ziegler in tow, a blue stream of energy stemming from her staff to the Cowboy.

Still firing upon them and whittling down their numbers, the Courier noticed the outside balcony overlooking the control center and saw men taking up position there. He fired upon them, downing one of them but making the others take cover and fire back at his position. Thinking quickly, he turns and goes down into the hallway he came, heading to a doorway that leads outside. Reaching it, he then bumps into another masked man and struggles with him as Nathan grabs ahold of his weapon. Delivering a helmeted headbutt to the masked man, his right-hand reaches to the back of his waist and comes back enshrouded in a metallic gauntlet. The weapons twin barrels erupting on impact and sending the man flying back as a cloud of blood sprayed everywhere. Looking down at his Ballistic Fist, seeing the barrels smoking and splattered with blood. The weapon he ripped away from the man being a short-barreled shotgun with a rack of shells on the side of its receivers. Nathan bends down to pick two shells up, then ejecting the spent ones on his wrist.

"Thanks," the Courier said, inserting the fresh rounds in the tube as he stepped outside.

Going up to the stairs that lead to the balcony, he could hear the men up there firing weapons and unaware that he was sneaking up on them. Reaching for his belt, he pulls out a grenade and pulls the pin off. He throws it at their emplacement and retreats into cover, hearing them scream something in Mandarin before it detonated. Running up, he sees most of them dead from the blast, executing one who was still writhing in pain on the ground and another who tried standing up. Taking the balcony for his own.

With his carbine, he starts to clean the others up, now surprised they are being attacked from another angle. As they were nearly done, Nathan looked up and saw two other men setting up a machine gun on a platform high above the center. Quickly swapping out another mag, he only got the bolt to slam home when he saw something fall from the ground and saw it was one of the goons. Looking up, he watched as Genji had his blade inside the other, before taking it out and kicking the man down to the ground. The Ninja then spotted the Courier, giving him that two-fingered salute. The Courier waved back.

The fighting on this floor had finally died down, for now, and Nathan hopped down to join the rest of the team. Among all the bodies.

"Nathan, are you all right?" Dr. Ziegler asked, the coated man. "You're covered in blood!"

"It's not mine," the Waster answered, waving off any help. "I'm fine. Check on the others."

Winston looked around, worry present on his face.

"Did anyone find any hostages?" Winston asked, concerned they weren't anywhere to be seen.

"I have not," Genji answered, sounding equally troubled. "Perhaps they are on another level?"

"Looks like we'll have to split up, again. McCree and I will go up top while Brin and Song will go down. Genji, you'll scale the around and recon any places independently of us to expedite the process. And Angela, I'm going to switch things up by having you accompany Song and Brin; Are you okay with that?"

"If that is where I'm needed, so be it," she responded confidently. "Just be careful, you two."

"Don't fret, Doc. We'll be alright," McCree reassured her, nodding his head. "You two best take care of her."

"I did once before, haven't I?" the Courier rhetorically asked.

Even though this was in fact not the first time he had to play bodyguard, there was something a bit unnerving to McCree about seeing the same man making the promise in that black armor splattered with blood. Especially odd considering that he was standing next to the woman who looked like an angel. One hell of a mean look, though…

"You did. Happy hunting."

With that the group separated once more, the Scientist and Cowboy going the other way and the Ninja going his own. The rest backtracked through the hallway and made it to the elevator. Though, a dilemma formed when they realized it wouldn't be able to fit the pink mech.

"You guys go ahead," Hana offered. "I'll fly down and meet up with you. Might do some fly-bys in the meantime."

"Are you sure, Hana?" Dr. Ziegler asked, obviously worried for the younger woman.

"Ugh, stop worrying so much, Mom! I'll be fine."

"Hana, I thought we discussed this. I told you not to-"

The elevator opened behind them with an audible "ding", interrupting them.

"Oh, your ride's here. Bye!"

The pink mech then dashed off, the thrusters spitting out a turquoise flame. She was already flying through the sky before Dr. Ziegler could get off another word off.

The two filed into the lift, Nathan shooting in the dark and pressing one of the many buttons on the panel that was below their level. The doors closing and feeling the elevator descend rapidly down the spire. They had to start somewhere.

"'Mom'?" the man questioned, quizzical expression under the helmet.

"Oh, it's a silly thing she does," Angela explained, shaking her hand and sighing. "She does it with the older agents. Calling them things like 'Grandma' or 'Dad'. I don't condone it as we do have to maintain some sense of professionalism, but Hana really is something else. Even for a nineteen-year-old."

"That young? Kid keeps finding more ways to baffle me even when she's not here. Still wondering how she got wrapped up in all of this."

"I find myself asking that question, too. Don't get me wrong, she's a sweet girl but she sometimes makes things more of a hassle than they need to be. In this line of work, I'm worried that something will happen, eventually. Oh, listen to me - I do sound like her mother. I'm only thirty-seven!"

"Wait, really?" Nathan sounded even more baffled. "I thought you were younger."

Before Angela could continue the conversation, the elevator suddenly lost power and halted to a stop. The momentum making them stumble around in the dark, Angela grabbing onto to Nathan's arm while he balanced himself against the wall, before realizing what happened.

"Oh, great, this again?" the Courier remarked, finding himself in a familiar situation.

"What now?" the Doctor asked, illuminating the dark space with her golden wings.

Recalling what he did last time, he went up to the doors and peeled them open, but only found the concrete wall of the elevator shaft and not a door. Before he thought they weren't any other options left, he then felt Angela tap on his shoulder and look behind to see her pointing to an emergency exit on the ceiling.

"Good catch," he complimented, kneeling and cupping his hands for her to climb up.

Planting a foot into his hand and clambering onto his shoulders, the Doctor could reach the panel and climb up through the opening. Nathan jumped up, getting his forearms onto the edge and receiving some assistance from Angela to get on top. Now on their feet, they look around the elevator shaft also illuminated by the Valkyrie's wings. There was a door a couple of meters above them.

"Looks like we're climbing," the Courier noted.

"Astute observation," Dr. Ziegler commented dryly.

Suddenly, they hear gunfire and explosions erupt from the top of the elevator shaft. Looking up instantly they see the cable shake rather violently and snap. The platform beneath them giving way.

"Shit!" the Courier yelled, grabbing onto a metal rung as soon as he felt his boots sink.

The elevator plummeted down the shaft, sparking and grinding along the surface, the broken end of the cable nearly whipping them as it was pulled down, as well. A few seconds later did he finally hear the crash echo up to them. Holding onto the rung for dear life, Nathan's eyes widened in realization.

"Shit, Angela!" he called out, pivoting to look behind and instantly becoming relieved to see her still there, her wings keeping her afloat midair as she held on to her own metal rung, but not as tightly as him.

"Hi…" the blonde smiled sheepishly, before looking down at her precarious position with a less enthused expression.

Static then rang into their ears, gunfire in the background.

"Guys, be advised: Do not use the elevator!" Winston yelled over the comms. "They blew out one of the cables. You're going to have to-"

"A bit late for that warning, boss!" Nathan snarled. "We're dangling like a bad flesh wound, here."

"Oh! Uh, okay, then. Sorry to hear that. What is everyone else's status?"

Hana was the next to speak.

"I think you guys should get to level twenty, quick! There are a lot of guys here and where there are bad guys, there's the objective. I'll- Hey, stop that!"

As the register of her fusion cannons echoed, Nathan and Angela looked up at the door above them marked with the number "29". Lucky guess.

They began to descend the shaft, the woman in the Valkyrie suit having a much easier time than the man climbing down a rickety emergency ladder. Upon reaching the door marked with "20", Nathan began peeling it apart and opened to reveal another sterile white room, even hearing the pink mech not too far. However, just as he got his boots on the ground, he noticed the six men in front of him with their backs to him – anticipating the mech from their front. The armed thug closest to him on the right turned his head around and jumped when he saw the man in black armor behind them. The Courier hopped off his heels before he could get a shot off.

"Nathan, wait-!" Dr. Ziegler tried to call but it was already too late.

In an instant, the Courier clutched the Ballistic Fist on his right and pulled out his .45 with the left, making a dash for the goon closest to him on his left. He fires off a round at the man who spotted him first, sending him to the ground writhing. The man he charged didn't have time to react before his face met the pressure plate on the fist, setting off the shotgun barrels and instantly ending his life as a chunk of his head was blown off. Quickly, he grabbed the corpse by the throat and held it up to use as a meat-shield. The remaining four were now fully aware of the tall, armored man behind them and started to panic as they tried to fight back.

The Courier then shot at two others, double-tapping them each and killing them instantly. With the meat-shield still in hand, he turned with his pistol to face the last two and fired to only have the muzzle bumped away from one of them charging at him. Dropping both the empty handgun and the corpse, he blocks an oncoming right hook and jabs his enemy right under the ribs. The wind knocked out of him, a right hook to the face sends him twirling and gives the Waster the opportunity to wrap his left arm around his throat. His hostage's arms trying to claw at his Pip-Boy.

The last man standing, panicking, fires his weapon wildly but only manages to hit his own comrade and the space around him. Taking advantage of this, the Courier pulls up All-American and fires from the hip. Able to land multiple shots on him thanks to the short range and painting the wall behind him. As that man's body crumples with 5.56-millimeter holes in his flesh, the Waster tightens his grip on the barely alive man before pivoting his forearm and uttering a sickening crunch. The body flops to the floor and joins the five others in their massive pool of blood. Staining the floor that was once as white as the moon.

Nathan was a touch winded after that short little spat, feeling his breath fog up the inside of his helmet.

"Nathan…" he heard Dr. Ziegler's voice approaching from behind. "Are you-!"

Angela jumped as the Courier twisted around, his carbine in one hand, and fired two shots at the first man he sent writhing to the ground. Finishing him off just in time, as his body slumped back and let a handgun clatter to the floor and onto a pool of blood. He stared at the dead man for a moment, catching his breath, before his eyes darted to the right and saw the Mech Pilot in the doorway staring at him with her mouth agape. Couldn't tell if it was horror, awe, or both on the young woman's face.

"…Woah…"

The Waster just stared at her with his red eyes, raising his head slightly as if to come up with a response. Their comms erupted to life after, again.

"Everyone, I have found the hostages," Genji called out to them, but hushed. "They are being held in a restaurant in the eastern part of the gardens, the same floor Song said she was. I'll wait for all of you, first, but be prepared for resistance at the front."

"Let's go save them, then," the Field-Medic exclaimed, eager to get the people of harm's way.

"Right. Kid, you take point," the Courier ordered, picking up his 1911 and inserting a fresh mag. "Can you still do that thing with the holograms? I think we'll need it."

"Defense matrix? You bet," the Mech Pilot confirmed, reorienting her cannons.

Not wanting to waste time, the three dashed off through the gardens and cut through a path on the side. The Wastrel ignoring the fancy and clean Eastern architecture passing by. Well-trimmed flora and decorations only in his peripheral vision. Then, the sight of a large building in the distance behind a gate with concrete walls came into view. Almost instantly, they were fired upon as the sound of machine guns and rifles rocked through the air. Nathan and Angela took cover behind the Mech, rounds either dissipating or bouncing off the pink shell.

"Come on! My APM's better than this!" DVa mocked the men shooting at her.

"Kid…" the Courier grumbled, getting annoyed.

As if she got her wish, the intensity of the gunfire increased as they got past the stone walls. There, the Courier started to return fire at the hostage takers and taking them down with relative ease. When their weapons ran dry, only then did drop the Mech Pilot her barrier and unload fusion blasts onto them. Her efforts seemingly double when their Medic tethers the electrifying blue stream of energy at her. Clearing the courtyard, they see the building has two entrances flanking them on either side.

"Okay, we'll break off," Nathan said, pointing to the right entrance. "Kid, you head in there and we'll go through the other entrance. Can you handle that?"

"Of course, and when are you gonna stop calling me 'kid'?" she asked, annoyed at how often he's been using that word.

"When I'll be younger than you, which is never." he said, bluntly "Now, let's get this over with!"

The group separated, Nathan and Angela heading to the entrance behind them. Going through the doorway, they proceed to go down a hallway that led further into the building. With his carbine at the ready, the Courier hugged the wall and peered around the corner. He spotted the hostages, all grouped up in the center as their captors surrounded them. Some of the tables were upturned, to be used as makeshift cover, clearly upset from all the gunfire outside. And only a second later did gunfire from one of the tables force Nathan to retreat behind the wall. Then, he heard Song rush in and start attacking the captors, the sound of them retaliating sending the hostages into a scared frenzy. Hundreds of their rounds then going "pop" under the barrier. Slapping a fresh mag in, Nathan rushed forth from cover and raised his muzzle to pick them off. However, as soon as he did that, he felt the blue stream emanating from Angela's staff surge to him. Instantly, his eyes widened and his grip on the rifle tightened, feeling as if he just received a shot of Psycho. He didn't feel his inhibitions completely leave him but wanted to break something in half.

He started firing his rifle with a newfound ferocity, gunning down targets with speed and precision. Baring his teeth even if his enemies wouldn't be able to see it. The mask was intimidating enough.

"Don't let up on them!" the Doctor called out, the Courier very much obeying her as he bashed a captor with the stock of his rifle before shooting again. With the combined strength of the Pink Mech and the almost unhinged Wastelander, the hostage-takers were taken down one by one until one of the last fell to the ground and the gunfire stopped. There were now only three left, and they all had the bright idea to each take a captive hostage and point a gun at their heads. Carefully, Nathan and Hana approached them with their weapons fixed on them as Angela ran over to the hostages huddled in the center. Eyes fixed on the three captors and their captives, Nathan ignored the foreign words they were yelling as he looked to Hana.

"Alright, kid. Let's-"

Suddenly, the glass windows behind them shattered as a green blur jumped down and rolled onto the ground behind them. With the momentum from the roll, Genji precisely threw a set of shuriken and stuck all of them in the back of their heads simultaneously. Only then did they let go of the poor hostages and collapse to the ground, leaving them and the Cyborg Ninja left standing.

" _O? Jom meotjinde!_ " the Korean Girl let out, obviously amazed by what she saw.

"Like silk," Genji mused. "Sorry for hanging back but I had to wait for the opportunity to present itself. You three seemed to have it under control."

Nathan sighed, finally letting his rifle down. Relieved that they had just accomplished what they came here for. Before they could relish in the victory of the mission, their comms came to life, again.

"Uh, guys, Winston here," the Gorilla announced himself over the radio. "McCree and I are back in the dropship and making our way to your position. Get the hostages onto here quick, I spot a sizable force heading your way. Oh, uh, good job on rescuing them, too!"

As he finished, Nathan looked back to see the other three trying to gather the victims. Faces of relief and gratitude on a lot of them. An older gentleman in glasses even coming up to the tall, blood-stained, and grabbing by his hand and shaking it energetically. He didn't expect him to do that so suddenly.

"Thank you so much! Thank you!" he said in a very heavy accent, grinning madly and bobbing his head up and down.

"Uh, you're welcome," the California awkwardly replied.

"I knew Winston and Overwatch would come for us. Thank you! They said you wouldn't, but I knew you would! Come here and kill all those  _wángbādàn_!"

"Erh… Thanks?"

After that interesting conversation, they rounded them all up and got them out to the courtyard. Just in time for them to see Orca pull into view and land right in front of them. They made a speedy exit. As much as they could achieve with a crowd of people.

* * *

Not so far and still in the same city, the Orca landed at a marketplace to drop off the Lucheng employees. Subsequently, they attracted much attention from the nightlife and a small crowd began to gather around the dropship, some of them helping the victims but many just gawking at the agents and the ship. Nathan decided to stay inside this time around, looking outside the door.

The sound of spurs made him look to see Jesse coming up to him.

"You did pretty well this time around, partner," the Cowboy complimented, patting his real hand on his shoulder but then promptly wiping the glove against his trousers. "Even if you do stink of someone's innards…"

"Eh," the Wastelander shrugged it off. "I will admit though; this mission was easier than I expected. Much easier than the ones I've been sent to so far."

"Yup, always preferred things to be simple. Go there, kill that guy or save that girl, and get outta dodge. Still, it's always nice feeling like the savior. And told ya' Hana could hold her own."

Nathan looked on to still see Angela amongst the crowd, tending to whoever she could before they'd have to leave. He also spotted Hana, out of her mech and interacting with the people outside, some of them passersby and some of them the hostages themselves. Playfully signing what appeared to be photos of herself. Taking those "selfies" with them. The older man could only be still confused.

Then, a random thought hit him as he watched the two interact with the crowd. Thinking about something he hasn't thought about for some time. Something back home. His friends. Odd that it was just now and that it took this long for it to cross his mind.

'Wonder what they've been up to since I've been gone," he wondered, their faces flashing in his mind. Memories flooding it. A lot of them of Veronica, Boone, Raul, Rex, Cooper, ED-E and even some weirdo street crier he met in Freeside. He sighed as he walked back to the booth, taking his helmet off and feel the air freeze up around his sweaty skin. 'Probably not dealing with this shit.'


	28. A Few Laments

Near the Forbidden Zone, Big Mountain Research Facility

2285

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU MUTT!"

Parmley struggled against the snakehead muzzle of a Nightstalker, latching its fangs onto the muzzle of his Tri-Beam laser. As the tug-of-war between the man and the hybrid persisted, Boone was to the side trying his best to keep the rest of the Nightstalker pack from attacking the two floating brains they were escorting back to the Sink. Easier said than done. More so when he only had a bolt-action for the vicious pack encircling them.

"I just got this arm fixed!" Parmley exclaimed, slamming the weapon's stock into the Nightstalker to make it stagger back. Then quickly blasting its scaly head into a dozen singed pieces.

They knew Nightstalkers were present in the area but had no idea there were huge packs of them roaming around the facility. Quite a shock to just suddenly see a pack come from around the corner of a rock. Hearing the rattling of their tails long before they bared any fangs. Another nuisance they had to deal with while they were stuck in this godforsaken Pre-War facility.

"LOBOTOMITE, I REQUIRE ASSISTANCE!" Klein begged as a Nightstalker got ahold of one of his monitors. "WATCH THE PAINT!"

Parmley turned and ran over to the Think Tank, kicking the reptilian canine away, but it quickly regained semblance before hissing and pouncing at him. The Ranger quickly fired a burst from the energy weapon and disintegrated the creature, feeling the hot ash cloud around his body. He then grabbed Klein and began pushing him towards the horizon. Boone and Mobius followed suit, Robo-Scorpions covering their escape. Even those machines were having trouble with the pack.

"Goddammit, I do not want to go back to the Auto-Doc after this!" Parmley expressed, running alongside the others.

Boone was silent as he kept his eyes on the horizon, weaving through a labyrinth of misshapen canyons and crumbling rock. Seeing the white dome in the distance get closer and closer. He could hear the hissing and yips of the Nightstalkers that got past the Robo-Scorps not far behind them, not daring himself to look back. However, movement in the left corner of his eye made him catch a glimpse of something flashing orange in the distance. Coming over the hills towards all the noise.

"Oh, you're kidding…" he groaned, spotting five Cazadores fly over a hill and flap their orange wings to them. Big enough that they kicked up dust as they flew past.

Raising his sniper rifle, he started firing at the fast-moving bugs, the seasoned marksman able to quickly take down two of the large wasps before they could get closer. However, a Nightstalker came from behind and nearly pounced on him, but only to be tackled from nowhere by Rex and have its throat ripped out by the cyberdog. Boone took that as a cue to start moving again as the hybrids were still hot on their heels.

Feeling the sun beat down on their backs and hulls, their lungs and processors almost wanting to burst from the exertion of being chased across half the facility's cracked landscape. They were close to the entrance, but it didn't look like it would be long until the two of the Wasteland's most dangerous creatures would get to them, first. With all the energy they could muscle up, they bolted to the glowing, blue door for salvation. Thankfully, reaching it and hastily filing in. Boone was the last one to get in, but before he got half of his body through the doorway a large shadow cast over him.

"Boone!" Parmley exclaimed, eyes as wide as monitors.

The Sniper felt something pull him back as he nearly lost an eye to a stinger as large as a bayonet. Stumbling back, he watched as the Cazador was then shot with red beams and crumpled to the ground with smoking marks over its carapace. It was still alive and flipped onto to its feet only to then have a Nightstalkers sink their fangs into it start ripping it apart. The black-blue carapace spilling its green insides. The door finally shuts closed, the last thing they see is the body of a small Nightstalker howling as it is impaled by one of the other Cazadores.

The group finally had an opportunity to catch their breath, Boone and Parmley breathing heavily with Rex panting rapidly with his tongue hanging to the side. The two floating brains just floated there. Not seemingly exasperated by the confrontation. At least, physically.

"Well, that was…" Mobius paused, his grimy monitors twitching in thought. "Exhilarating! We should do that again sometime."

"No!" the Ranger exclaimed, glaring at the mad scientist as he leaned against his knees. "Let's… Let's just get upstairs. Veronica should be waiting for us."

As Boone looked around, he felt something warm and wet dripping down his right cheek. Bringing his hand up there, he looks down to see his palm stained with blood. He then felt a fiery pain sting across the across his cheek and begin to spread throughout the right side of his face. At least he knew only a small fraction of the venom made it through. Otherwise, he'd be convulsing on the ground. Still needed a quick visit to the Auto-Doc.

"Least it wasn't the eye," the Sniper rejoiced lowly, thankful that he didn't lose that important tool.

* * *

Veronica sat on the metal floor of the Think Tank as the body of one of the robots they had killed was laid out before her. Doing one of the things she does best: Taking things apart. The ex-Scribe always found herself at ease when stripping something down to its core components and reassembling it just as new. Sometimes tinkering with machines and seeing if she could do something differently. Or, better yet, taking a bunch of random parts together and using them to make something. It didn't have to be useful, but it just had to be something.

It made her reminisce about the times she'd craft something with Nathan, huddled around a campfire or lantern as they worked with each other. Nathan bringing the resources while she brought her wits. Though, her friend was certainly knowledgeable with his tinkering, too.

On the other hand, he might not be so knowledgeable about the humanoid machine splayed in front of her, its lifeless one eye to the floor. As she dissected it as best she could, she was met with things both familiar and alien. She did find wires, actuators, nuts, bolts, and mechanisms very much present in the robots she usually scraps for parts, but also found what she could only assume to be a very advanced circuit board system and some of the smallest microprocessors she's ever seen. Even with all the experience of the Brotherhood behind her, she couldn't draw a lot of accurate conclusions. Again, she could only assume.

"And despite all that…" she mused, one hand going to her chin while the other went to pet the sleeping form of Cooper, curled up next to her. "Why does its power supply seem… Weak?"

The mechanical sound of a door opening makes her and Cooper's ears twitch, making them stand up to see the rest of their group returning with the two remaining scientists.

"Welcome back," Veronica greets, going up to them but noticing her Sniper pal wasn't with them. "Where's Boone?"

Parmley looked around awkwardly, before looking back at the Scribe. Trying to maintain a neutral expression.

"With the Doc," the Ranger bluntly answered. "He's fine but… Shit's fucked outside. Like, really fucked."

"Ooookay," the Scribe responded, wanting to shift the conversation for their sake. "Forget I asked, then?"

The two scientists they escorted then hovered to the front, Mobius looking around with his broken eyes as if in awe. A very human emotion rushing through his wires.

"My, my…" he let out, scanning as much of the environment as his old scanners could. "It's been a long time since I've been to this facility. If only I could fully remember what it looked like before I left."

"AND I WISH IT LOOKED LIKE IT DID BEFORE I LEFT!" Klein exclaimed, looking around with his monitors in disgust. "UNBELIEVABLE HOW MUCH DISREPAIR THE THINK TANK HAS FALLEN INTO SINCE MY ABSENCE. ROBOT REMAINS SCATTERED ALL OVER THE PLACE. BULLET HOLES ACROSS THE WALLS AND CEILING. AND WHAT ARE THOSE DISGUSTING AMALGAMATIONS OVER THERE?!"

Everyone looked at the corner where Klein was expressing contempt.

"Uh," Veronica was looking at the sleeping hulls of the other scientists. "Those are your friends…"

Klein then revolved on his axis and stared at Veronica before turning back to look at the spot again.

"OH," Klein expressed, sounding rather quiet for the moment. "WELL, THEY STILL LOOK FILTHY. POSSIBLY SULLIED BY YOUR GRIMY HANDS. FRET NOT, THOUGH! THEY ARE SIMPLY IN AN EMERGENCY SHUT-DOWN STATE. MY COLLEAGUES SHOULD REACTIVATE AFTER I GIVE THEM THE ALL-CLEAR CODE."

"Please do," Veronica responded. "The faster we get through with this the better."

The two returning scientists then floated over to their catatonic colleagues as Veronica and Cooper rejoined Parmley and Rex.

"How're you holding up?" the Ranger asks

"Better, but still could use some improvement," she admitted. "At least you guys made it back and brought the much-needed help we need. Six Pre-War scientists in the same room at a top of the line Pre-War research facility? Couldn't ask for a better dream team to find Nathan."

"Only if Klein can really wake up his friends. I'm sure you're more of an expert in this type of stuff, but we might be here for a while if those guys are anything like those crazy eggheads. How is he going to get them to wake up, anyway?"

"I'm sure it'll be some complex initiation code and procedure that could take some time before we can see some result-"

Klein screamed, louder than he was moments before, which was saying something. "WAKE UP YOU NARCOLEPTIC INSUBORDINATES!"

In an instant, the sleeping scientists began to reactivate into a dazed and confused fervor, their monitors flashing to life to scan the environment. Twitchy and uncollected.

"Whoah! Wha-? Where am I?!" the Think Tank with a large mouth monitor exclaimed.

"We have been awakened!" another one exclaimed, almost sounding like an old narrator from those Pre-War holotapes. "Free from the clutches of the mechanical monstrosities!"

" [#-!-#] !" the one with the green tank "said", sounding more like a radio frequency with too much static.

Parmley just looked at Veronica with a deadpan gaze on his eyes. The ex-Scribe nervously laughed, before she palmed her face and let out a groan in regret. Her enthusiasm about the chances of finding their friend dwindling by the second. Through the cracks of her hand, she saw a violet haze wash over her and opened to see another Think Tank float up to them and scan them with those monitors. A bit too close for comfort.

"We have guests!" a feminine voice spoke out from the brain, seeming enamored with the beings in front of her. "Living, breathing, and organic guests! Oh, and even little-little teddy bears! Quadrupedal, pointed snouts, and fur!"

She lowered herself to get a closer look at the dogs, Cooper backing away and snarling while Rex stared at her with an inquisitive tilt.

"LOBOTOMITES, MAY I INTRODUCE YOU TO 0, BOROUS, 8, AND DALA, RESPECTIVELY," the Chief Researcher listed, before facing his colleagues. "THINK TANK, MAY I INTRODUCE YOU TO VERONICA, REX, COOPER AND… PARMESAN?"

"Parmley," the Ranger corrected.

"YES, AND THEY ARE HERE BECAUSE A FRIEND OF THEIRS REQUIRES ASSISTANCE. THAT FRIEND BEING NATHAN BRIN."

Even if they were mostly machines, the fleshy humans could see them visibly react to the news. Dala seeming distraught upon hearing.

"What? My-my little teddy bear?" she questioned, getting even more uncomfortably close to the fleshy ones. "Is he in danger? Do his wounds need to be sewed up? Does one of his enemies require vivisecting?"

"We don't know," Veronica answered, bringing all their scanners onto her. "He could be in danger. He could be in a fight. All we do know is that he is missing, and it most likely involves your tech."

The scientists all looked at one another, hard to tell if it was uncertainty. Well, it was hard to tell anything at all with those literally static expressions.

"Sorry if this sounds somewhat critical," 0 spoke up. "But what makes you think that?"

"This dog here," Parmley spoke up next, crouching down to Cooper. "Is his. And I found him all by his lonesome. When I asked where his owner went, he led me to your satellite. And a bunch of bodies surrounding it."

More uncertain murmuring and beeping between all of them, only proving to make Veronica more anxious.

"Well, dog is man's best friend," Borous stated, sounding confident in his manner. "Not to discredit cats or exotic birds, of course. If they still exist. However, that still leaves us with the question of where our missing person has gone. Or if he will ever turn up, again."

"That's why we're here," Veronica stated, stepping forward. "We think he used your teleportation device but somehow ended up where he shouldn't be. Is there any way you guys can discern where he possibly could've gone? Anyway you can help us?"

More murmuring erupted between them. More worrying.

"Maybe…" 0 honestly answered, trying not to be too harsh with the truth. "Possibly? Not too sure…"

"If his Transportalponder malfunctioned, there's no telling what happened," Dala admitted, sounding not too enthused about it either. "Despite the resiliency of his thick, muscular, outer layer of skin, there are so many variables that could've ended in a less than assembled body. As morbid and explicit as it may seem."

"It is possible but not likely!" Borous announced next. "Your friend could be anywhere in the world, from Massachusetts, Moscow, to even Beijing! He might not even be in our Solar System – floating through the deep, dark expanse of a cruel Universe, his molecular most likely fractured in a billion different pieces! Or, in a completely different dimension altogether! Where the laws of physics could be incomprehensible to even the brightest minds still existing on this Earth. I could only pity what terrible fate has befallen Nathan Brin, what insufferable torture he may be suffering through. A possibly greater pain than Atlas having the world on his shoulders!"

After that small tirade, they all just stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and shock. Veronica almost seeming horrified by all the nasty but still scientifically probable ways Nathan could be dying of, right now. Parmley just stood there, cringing as he observed her. Even the dogs were unamused by that lecture as they kept their muzzles closed and their tails motionless.

"Uhm… Borous?" 0 said, nervously laughing. "I think you might've gone a bit overboard with the hyperbole. Eh, just a smidge."

His pathetic attempt at laughter echoed throughout the silent laboratory, almost as quiet as the graveyard near Goodsprings. But amidst all this silent commotion, one floating brain decided to speak up.

"My goodness, how far we've fallen…" Mobius stated, sounding more than disappointed with how much things were in disarray. More out of hand than the maintenance of his body. "To think that Big Mountain was once the precipice of scientific research in the world. I thought things would improve when Nathan came into our little, experimental bubble and shook things up greater than the nukes did. Yet, no one here seems capable of reacquiring their sensibilities, again. If you had them all in the first place."

The Think Tanks stared at Mobius, their expressions still difficult to read but it wasn't hard to guess they weren't feeling at least a twinge of shame for what they have devolved into. That was until another question then popped into their dome heads as they looked at their fellow Think Tank.

"Wait… Mobius?" 0 questioned. "What are you doing here?"

"HE'S HERE TO DO WORK," Klein declared with an irate tone, making everyone focus on him. "AS SHOULD ALL OF US BE DOING. IN THE FIVE OR SO MINUTES IT TOOK FOR ALL YOU TO ASK QUESTIONS AND GENERALLY BE INCOMPETENT, WE COULD'VE SPENT THAT TIME DISCERNING WHERE NATHAN WAS TAKEN TO AND COORDINATE OUR EFFORTS IN TRYING TO BRING HIM BACK. NOT JUST FOR US, BUT FOR HIS FRIENDS WHO HAVE JOURNEYED SO FAR AND SO WIDE, BUT HAVE BEEN FORCED TO ENDURE YOUR SECOND-HAND STUPIDITY. IF ANY OF YOU ARE ANY BIT OF THE GENIUSES YOU SO CLAIM YOURSELVES TO BE, THEN GET TO YOUR STATIONS! FOR WE ARE GOING TO SAVE THE LOBOTOMITE! WITH SCIENCE!"

"Well, we still have to figure out where he is, first."

"I AM FULLY AWARE OF THAT, 0. DO WE NOT HAVE THE INSTRUMENTS TO CATALOGUE THE TRANSPORTALPONDER'S ACTIVITY, INCLUDING DESTINATION DATA?"

"I don't think we do-"

8 joined in on the conversation, announcing himself from across the lab as he looked at something. Already ahead of everyone else. " [*$(^=)#] !"

"Oh, we do… How 'bout that?"

"EXCELLENT. A SMALL MICRO-STEP CLOSER TO HELPING OUR FRIEND. EVERYONE, TO YOUR STATIONS! THERE IS SCIENCE TO BE DONE."

The Think Tank then dispersed, going to separate areas of the laboratory, and interacting with the advanced, high-end instruments at their disposal. For once, Veronica felt relieved about their mission. Mobius then approached her and the rest of the gang and addressed all of them with his grimy, but still attentive eye-stalks.

"I hope we find the gateway to our mutual friend, soon," Mobius wished, sounding not nearly as driven as Klein. "The scientific method, while it brought us many wonderful things, does not yield those results instantly. It may be a lengthy process to figure out how Mr. Brin got from here to wherever he is now, but we should reach it eventually. Science still has proven the impossible innumerable times."

"Thanks for that," the Scribe said, a warm smile gracing her face. "I really needed that. You guys aren't so bad after all. I bet you have tons of stories of Nathan."

"Oh, quite! But maybe you don't have to listen to me as we could have Nathan back here in just a manner of days!"

As soon as he said that, something literally exploded on the other side of the room, they turned around to see 8 running around with fire all over his metal body and the ruins of the computer he was examining. The same computer that logged where Nathan's Transportalponder brings him to.

" [#$(^=)#] !" he tried to scream, the flame not going away.

As they watched in shock, Parmley noticed an old fire extinguisher next to him and grabbed it, proceeding to chase the indiscernible bowl all over the lab.

"Wow, no wonder that computer exploded!" they heard 0 exclaim, looking at a different monitor. "The data that it was transferring is insane! Just where did Nathan go?"

Veronica and Mobius then exchanged a few uneasy glances.

"Erh, give or take," he admitted to her after witnessing that.

The realist approach would be their safest approach.

* * *

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

An orange haze hung over the peninsula as it was well into the afternoon, many places in Gibraltar turning on their lights in anticipation of the night – the Watchpoint very much being one of those places. Of course, not nearly as noticeable as the lighthouse shining a scant few kilometers from the shore.

The day was not over yet for Overwatch, but many still present on the base took the few hours they had left in their shifts to relax or to catch up on some important business not explicitly related to saving the world. Nathan was doing a bit of both, secluded to his quarters, and writing onto pieces of paper on his desk - a green hue glowing onto the white sheets because of the Plasma Grenade he was holding in his left hand. His desk was an organized mess at best, paper and pencils were strewn about, a half-disassembled M1911 to the side, and a coffee mug that's been there since the morning. And, of course, the presence of an advanced explosive on his desk which possibly violated a policy or two regarding ordinances. However, he had the computer online and a few holographic windows opened. Results from his attempt to explore more of the Internet and immerse himself into this world's technology.

It was… Surprisingly simple to explore. Granted, it was nothing like a terminal or holotape where there were only a few select files he could explore at a given time, but through his own sense of wandering and some help from Athena (he didn't have the heart nor patience to ask for assistance from Hana) he found a lot of interesting sites along his path. A lot of them seemed mundane, like online encyclopedias about history or cooking videos about rubbing sauce into a chicken, but others were more intriguing. Online holovid libraries, many dedicated to small household pets for some reason. Galleries of images with people, animals, places, and even just food. And mountains upon mountains of advertisements, learning that they long transcended beyond billboards in this world. All this info was daunting but intriguing. Wasn't a big fan of some of the music though, as his Pip-Boy played to the tune of a guy "goin' under".

"Maybe if I search hard enough," he said, more willing to procrastinate than write notes about the bomb on his desk. "I'll find out where my Transportalponder is."

He typed the letters into the holographic keyboard – rather proficiently – and clicked "Search", only to be lead to a page about transportation for endangered turtles.

"Eh, could only get so far," he said, despite fully knowing it was going to lead nowhere. He pivoted on his chair. "You probably saw that coming, did you?"

Bastion, who was sitting on the floor behind him, looked up at him in thought before letting out a hum. The Omnic had a bunch of books spread in front of him. Just random books Nathan nicked from wherever, one or two from his world. Most from around the base. Not a lot of people seemed to be using them, anyway. He wasn't sure if Bastion could read the words or just liked looking at the pictures.

"Watcha' lookin' at?" He scooched to take a closer look at the book Bastion was currently examining.

"Chk eet ut," reading robot replied, grabbing the book with his good arm and handing it to him.

Grabbing the book, he looks at the cover to see that it was old but still in good condition.

"'Mythologies and Legends of the Old World'," he read aloud, perking an eyebrow.

He opened the book and flipped through the pages before randomly landing his finger on a section.

"'Stories of Ancient Greece'," he read off the page again, before listing off a series of names with each flip of the page. "Archimedes. Euclid. Helios. Odysseus. Poseidon… Ganymede?"

There was a section of the chapter dedicated to this figure, accompanied by an old art piece showing a person being kidnapped by a giant eagle. The Wastelander's eyes glaze over the paragraphs with intrigue.

"Considered one of the most beautiful mortals and kidnapped by Zeus," he paraphrased as his eyes kept moving. "Used as a symbol of a sexual relationship between an adult male and a young boy."

Nathan visibly cringed in disgust, releasing the book from his grasp and letting it fall flat to the floor.

"Zeus'll fit right in with all the psychopaths, then," he then said with disdain as unpleasant thoughts came to mind, mainly of targets he's killed. "Fuckin' child predators."

Chirping made him cast his gaze up to Bastion holding the bird on his metal hand, looking at his friend attentively. Nathan watched as the two "chatted", the robot beeping to the bird's cheeping. He still wondered how the two became friends and why the feathered critter didn't just fly away from the sight of the hulking machine, or biped in this base. That thing just did not have a skittish bone in its body. And if he believed what he sometimes overheard in the halls, the two were making a name for themselves. Well, one of them had a name, at least.

Looking back at his desk, he picks up a spare paper clip and gets up from his chair. The man approaches the two, who look up at him, and he holds out his right palm. Almost instantly, the yellow bird jumps up onto his hand and spots the paperclip. Taking it in its beak, it then flies over to his nest by the window and sticking the metal piece among twigs and sticks. Making its home sturdier with manmade materials. The Californian then walks up to the window and looks out at the horizon. Unlike him, the bird didn't seem to mind being from far from home.

"Well, I'm not calling you Zeus, that's for sure," Nathan stated, tapping the feathered friend on their soft head with one finger. "How 'bout we do some exploring? See what else there is on this rock?"

"Doo doo veeooo?" Bastion inquired.

"I don't think so, but I've been cooped up in this base for long enough. You have, too. Don't worry, we'll be back before anyone even knows we were gone."

"Uh, Mr. Brin?"

Nathan closed his eyes and silently cursed himself, forgetting that privacy wasn't always an option when the base he was trapped had a literal A.I. overseeing it. Always.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping, Mr. Brin," she apologized. "But I couldn't help notice what you were planning with Bastion. Now, this is clearly against protocol."

"You can save the rest, Athena," he lamented, trying not to sound irritated. "I know you're gonna try and-"

"You didn't let me finish. As I was saying, I was listening to your conversation because of security reasons. Security that can help ensure the safety of everyone under my care in Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Another way I can also ensure the well-being of the personnel is that I monitor their vitals, for any medical anomalies that warrant concern. I've been monitoring your vitals the past few days and noticed your stress levels are at a higher than acceptable levels."

"…Wait, you've been scanning my body?"

"Please try not to get too upset, Mr. Brin. I only mean well. As such, I might turn a blind-eye if you and Bastion were to leave and go out to see the peninsula for yourselves. I believe it could be very beneficial. Your stress levels are of concern."

The Courier almost didn't believe it. Even if tried to hide all her talk behind technicalities. He would've imagined someone like her to be deadest in the rules.

"What's your angle?" he questioned, still unsure of the gesture.

"No angle," the Watchpoint A.I. answered sincerely. "Just looking out for the people under my care."

"What about Bastion?"

"I have been surveying him for weeks and I doubt he will cause any trouble – if at all. Do keep him out of sight, though."

Nathan just stared at the ceiling, trying to fish for a response in his head. She has been friendly to him the entire time he's been stuck here, so it wasn't like this was out of nowhere.

"You're… Very trusting," the Courier observed. "Thanks."

"No problem, Nathan," Athena replied, sounding pleased. "Just be back before midnight."

"Can do. Come on Bastion, let's see what this place is like."

Beeping excitedly, the large Omnic tromped out of the quarters just behind Nathan. Eager to explore more of the world and see new sights. His small friend's colorful wings fluttering after him.

* * *

Gibraltar was a small place, given the circumstances. A small British territory that had a population that didn't even break into the fifty-thousands, even during the Omnic Crisis, it would be a surprise to see it bustling with activity across its streets and ports. Tourism and commerce was where the true value behind this small peninsula was, aside from the other use the international community once had for it. But, if one wanted to find some good food or have a fun time by the beach, Gibraltar isn't a bad place to be. Another reason many Overwatch agents considered Gibraltar a cozy post to be stationed at. Watch the ocean and enjoy some kebabs. Which Lena was currently doing as she walked on the streets in a yellow t-shirt and jeans, arms locked with a taller woman in a red beach dress and a sun hat over her red hair.

"I always love coming here," the redhead said with a bright smile on her face, looking around the street market they were walking through. "The food. The beach. The weather! And another reason to spend the day with you."

A glum look overtook her pale visage for a moment, but only a moment.

"I'm starting to miss those days more often."

"I know, Emily," Lena said, adjusting her grip on a backpack that was slightly glowing blue through the zippers. "But you know how work's been. Trying to be heroes and all. You should see how the big guy's been taking it, recently."

"Has it been that bad?"

"Not particularly, but every now and then I tell him he needs to relax but he just says," she proceeds to makes her voice as deep and guttural as she could to imitate the Gorilla. "'But the work I am conducting is of the utmost importance and could be critical to our success!' Or some nonsense like that."

That elicited a short giggle from Emily, Lena joining her until it died down.

"That was a great impression," she complimented, a smirk still on her face. "How are the others handling it?"

"Oh, they're all fine, I guess," her Overwatch spouse sort of answered. "Angela's getting her feathers ruffled but manages to keep it all in shape, Reinhardt's as loud as ever, Mei's been feeling a tad better since Lijiang, and Jesse's still acting like a knobhead. A lovable knobhead, though."

Lena smiled as she recounted about some of her friends, thankful that they were faring a bit better than her furry friend. The couple went along further down the road, merrily touring among the vendors and shops. There were a few interesting figures among the crowds. Street performers, eccentric old merchants, or people in brightly dressed clothing. There was one man near a vendor serving kebabs, and they would've walked by if that man and the bird on his shoulder didn't seem familiar.

"Nathan?" she questioned aloud, going through the crowd and alerting the tall man to their presence.

"Oh, Oxton! Hey," he said, turning around to face them with kebabs in hand. "Wasn't expecting to find you here. Who's your friend?"

Lena just stared at him for a few moments, her eyes switching between him and the bird. Nathan's expression also changed as he instantly knew what she was thinking, and was starting to have second thoughts leaving the base. However, her girlfriend nudged her with an elbow because she thought she was being rude.

"Oh, uh, sorry 'bout that, love," Lena quickly apologized, snapping back to the moment. "Emily, this is Nathan. I've told you about him. Nathan, this is Emily. My girlfriend."

The Pilot's eyes darted between the two, her girlfriend rather oblivious to her jittery movement as she was preoccupied with introductions.

"Howdy, ma'am," Nathan greeted, nodding to Emily. "I'd shake your hand if mine wasn't greasy."

"That's all right," Emily replied, eyes scanning over him. "So, you're Nathan, huh? It's nice to meet you, and she didn't tell me about your pet bird. It's so cute! Can I pet it?"

Lena was quick to intervene.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea, love," she warned, her eyes darting around the surroundings as if they were looking for something.

"Why not?" her lover questioned.

"Nah, it's fine," Nathan interjected, coaxing the feathered friend to his finger before bringing it down to Emily. "Here, hold out your finger."

The redhead does as she's told, one manicured finger extended in the air. The bird looks at it, before hopping on without a second thought. Emily lets out an adorable noise as she begins to pat its little head.

"What is its name?" she asks, enamored by the critter.

"Ganymede," he answers with a smirk.

"I love that name! It suits it so perfectly. Oh, you're so adorable, ya' know that?"

As if it understood her, Ganymede responds with a little song and made her snicker more. As this was going on, Lena forcefully grabbed Nathan by his arm and dragged him to a nearby alley. He wrestled his arm from her surprisingly strong grasp and looks at her to see a worried fury in her eyes.

"Are you bloody mad?!" she questioned, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at him. "Where's the Bastion?"

"Out of sight," he answered, crossing his arms. "I told him to stay put. In fact, I was just gonna head back to him until you two came along."

"But did you really have to bring it outside? With the sun still up? If someone spots Bastion, there is going to be an Omnic-hunt for him across this entire rock, and if that happens, it will lead the authorities to us and everything we've worked for will be a bust!"

"I know what I'm doing."

"Do you, mate? Do you really? Taking a Bastion unit around for a walk might as well be the equivalent of parading a tank through a village. At least, it doesn't have its gun limbs on it or that might make the problem worse. It'll be like sticking flares to it."

"Oxton-"

"But no, let's just let the terrifying symbol of the Omnic Crisis roam around the area and risk not only its life but everyone else's as well. Taking him out for a walk?! Creating a security risk is what you did!"

"Oxton-"

"And of course, this had to happen while Emily is visiting. I just hope to God that she will never get wrapped up in my work or it'll be-!"

"Oxton!"

Lena snapped out of her tirade, the Brit then realizing how it was so unlike to lose her temper that easily and so quickly. She sighed heavily and palmed her face, pinching her nose before opening her eyes and looking up at Nathan.

"I'm sorry, Brin," she started, her head clearer now. "I've just been stressed out lately. Just promise that all of you will be back before anyone here or at base notices."

"That was the plan, and I didn't intend on deviating from it," he reassured. "Besides, Athena was the one who gave me the go ahead."

"Did she?" the Pilot questioned, genuinely surprised that she let them go exploring. "Why?"

"I dunno. Pity, I guess."

Oxton then heard Emily calling out to her, turning around to see coming into the alley.

"Lena, are you there?" she calls out at the front of the alley. "Where've you gone?"

"Oh, I just needed to talk to- Woah!" the brunette exclaimed as she dodged out of Ganymede's way and watches them fly to the other end of the alley. Nathan nowhere in sight, now.

"Bye-bye, birdie! What were you saying, Lena?"

"I was saying I just needed to talk to Nathan about work. It was rather urgent."

"He looked like he left in a hurry."

Lena turned back to look at the far end of the alley, seeing nothing but brush on the other side.

* * *

Bastion had his single, blue eye locked on the horizon beyond the beach. Watching the sun finally dip beneath the blue waves and create an orange aura in the sky. This prompted the Omnic to let out a whir as he slowly drifted his head to the side. His metallic head rotated as bushes to his left began to rustle and saw Nathan come back with a six-pack of beers and some kebabs, Ganymede not too far behind – the bird finding its place on a metal shoulder.

They found a spot among the brush, far enough away from the beaten path yet with a good view of the beach as the vegetation gave way to open like a window. The seclusion was the most attractive part about this place. The only people they saw were on the beach, either taking in the sun, going for a swim, or playing some beachside sports. However, the Californian was content with cracking open a cold one and immediately downing about half of it. A refreshed sigh escapes his lips as the bottle comes back down and he just sits there next to the Omnic and Bird, the beer hanging lazily from his hand and the kebabs next to him simmering in the foil.

The next couple of minutes are silent, the only noises they hear are the crashing waves in the distance and some sounds of people mingling. Between Bastion's whirring insides and Nathan occasionally munching on a kebab or drinking, not much was being said between them. They reveled in this silence for a while, watching as the horizon continuously got dimmer and dimmer the more the sun fell beneath the sea.

"Krrz zoo chechiiu?" the Bastion broke the silence, his blocky head craning down to Nathan.

"No, I've seen my fair share of beaches," the man answered, looking Bastion in his eye for a moment before looking back at the orange sky. "Not a lot of them were ever this clean, though. Or had nearly as many tourists. The lack of a sickly green haze is also nice. Though, they weren't always bad."

"Vee?"

"Yes, this is back in the Wasteland. You still believe me on that, right?"

The robot answered with a crisp nod of his head and a chirp. The Wastelander went back to watching the sunset. Well, it would still be a sunset if the sun was still visible, not just the light still coming over the horizon. It still felt a bit warm, the man working to mend that by taking another chug of the cool liquid and polishing it clean. He then took another, hearty bite from a kebab and munching on the flavorful piece of moist meat. Feeling it go down as easy as it came.

"Something about this, though," he mused, eyes fixed on the sunset. "An old ranger I knew called it a 'different feeling'. I guess it does, but he was stationed at a resort in front of a lake and I am in a completely different Earth. Maybe that's why it feels different."

"Koocheeoo doo boo vee hoo wop?" Bastion further enquired, now looking at Nathan to see his response.

"… I guess… I'm nowhere closer to getting home. Nowhere closer to even finding the Transportalponder. And my 'contract' with Overwatch might be indefinite unless that ape, or anyone, figures something out."

Bastion looks at him, trying the gauge the situation the human had told him before the gaze of his one eye drifted a bit lower to see the six pack of beers. With his one arm, he reaches down and grabs one by the neck. Wrapping his metal fingers around it and the metal clinking against the glass, he methodically holds it up and brings the bottle up to the man.

"Veeroo Weeeer!"

Nathan looks at Bastion and the bottle, before smirking and graciously taking the frosty beverage from the metal hand.

"Thank ya' kindly," he says, using one of the edges on his Pip-Boy pop the cap off, then taking the metal circle in his fingers and examining it. "Nevertheless, it'll take all the alcohol and bottlecaps in the world to help me think clearly. Maybe a fine-looking gal, too. Until I can get back to the corrosive madness that is the Mojave Wasteland. But now?"

He reclined backwards, resting his back against a conveniently shaped rock and caressed the beer in his hands. Watching the sky become darker, seeing a few fires flare up around the beach with people gathered around them. He looked to see Ganymede picking at the scraps of his kebab, the tiny orange beak having trouble cutting into the meat.

"Now, I can just rest a spell," the Courier says, taking another swig before resting further into the rock, then shutting his eyes. "And wait for whatever they have in store for me."

The waves crashing on the beach, people laughing around campfires, and Bastion's mechanical body, all became white noise as he laid there.


	29. Visitors

The Saharan Desert, miles away from Giza, Egypt

2076

This place felt like a Wasteland.

Feeling of sand sloshing around his boots, no flora or fauna as far as the eye could see, and only the howling wind accompanying him as he traversed over tall dunes that broke apart under his feet. The only thing missing was the heat of the sun beating down on his duster. Instead, the moon and that city in the far distance bounced light off the sand. The seasoned wanderer wasn't going to complain about that, though.

This time the Courier was walking alone. One of the few times since being contracted that he was willingly, and knowingly, sent off on a mission by himself. The lack of an entourage felt a bit strange, but he was more than glad to not have someone hover over him. Still, walking through a long stretch of a barren landscape without anyone else at his side wasn't something he would normally do. Especially back home.

He was to be heading to some structure, a temple, in the middle of the open expanse of the desert to meet up with agents who have been stationed there. To check-up on things, see what they've found, and evaluate whether they needed some help. Nathan doubted they really needed help. He did also question why it had to be specifically him to carry out this mission. There were easily several candidates he thought of that would've been more suitable. Yet, Security-Chief Amari thought he would be the best option. Very trusting, as he could run away without the leash, but if that off-base stint with Bastion a few weeks back was any indication…

Besides, where would he go?

He wandered for what felt like an hour through the Sahara, the rock formation in the distance getting larger as time passed. Eventually, he was right at the bottom of the mountain and looked up to see the temple at the summit. Unfortunately, it didn't look like there was a pathway or trail that could lead him to it, at least where he was. He didn't want to spend more time walking around and just trying to find a trail. The wanderer be damned, he took the quickest way he saw: Going up.

Walking up to the rock face, he adjusted the slings on his back and fastened the straps of his gear before he grabbed a rock, gave it a good shake to see if it was sturdy, then lifted himself off the sand and started to climb up. Years of growing up in a canyon were being put to good use as he scaled the cliff face. Memories of being a bored child with nothing else to do, trying to find other outlets other than stick geckos with spears or watching old Pre-War holotapes. Memories of other places started to crop up in his mind, as well: Zion National Park, the Divide, Colorado, the Grand Canyon, and even some parts in Big Mountain. Expertly climbing up the rock, even with his size and all the gear he was carrying, Nathan made good time and had already scaled about half of it within ten minutes. Hastening his efforts while still taking care to be careful on his hike, he slowly lets one arm up after the other, his boots finding proper footing along the granite. Occasionally grunting or catching his breath with each strenuous movement, especially the little jumps across one crevice to another. His arms felt a bit strained but nothing too painful. If anything, he considered this a warm-up. He didn't want to look down, though.

Finally nearing the summit after about ten more minutes, he grabbed onto the ledge and was about to clamber on until he looked up and saw a man standing above him, decked out in drab-olive fatigues, and staring down at him dumbstruck with a cigarette in one hand and a rifle in the other.

The Courier leaped up and grabbed the muzzle of his rifle and pulled him down, making him plummet to the sand with a scream. He then scrambled onto the ledge and took cover by a rectangular, sandstone tomb. He pulled out his marksman carbine and racked the charging handle. He could hear more armed men scrambling to him, yelling something in their language.

'Great, now I have to clear this place out, first,' the Courier thought, grumbling that things just got more arduous.

As he heard boots thump against the sandstone, getting closer to his position, he was about to pounce from cover until he heard the register of another rifle to the north. Seeing the dark area around flash blue with every shot. He popped out of cover and began firing on the men who were now facing the other threat and let their sides be exposed. Emptying his mag, Nathan returned to cover and inserted a fresh one before shimmying to the other side of the tomb to engage the enemy from another angle. Just as he peers out from the corner the falling body of another armed man nearly falls on him, looking down to see there was syringe embedded into his neck. He looks out into the courtyard and sees men either being taken down by blue bolts of plasma and sniper shots streaking from atop the main building with deadly precision. The invaders falling after every shot. Nathan lifts an eyebrow.

'Maybe not,' he thinks to himself, adjusting his stance and casually leaning against his cover as he watches the entire thing unfold.

After about a minute, the show finally ended, and silence hung in the desert air again. Nathan lifted himself from cover and just walked around the courtyard, taking care to step over the bodies. Tracking some blood across the sand stricken floor. Halfway to the main structure, he heard something click and Ana Amari stepped out from a corner with a dart gun. The helmeted man stared at her in response. She sighed upon recognition, holstering the weapon.

"Oh, it's you," she remarked with a straight face, turning to wave at something in the North. Nathan looking to see the old man in the blue jacket standing on top of a structure before hopping out of view. "You're late."

"The Sahara has a bit more dunes than I'm used to, ma'am," the New Californian explained, despite being certain the older woman wasn't going to take that excuse. "Sorry, for the holdup. Who're your guests?"

"Just common mercenaries. Don't worry about them. I thought wandering deserts was your specialty? And was it necessary to scale the rock? While commendable, there is a pathway you could've taken."

"Didn't see it. Didn't want to spend time trying to find it."

Ana narrowed her eye at the response, eagle-sharp gaze scrutinizing the red eyes. The more they worked together, the more unsure the Sniper was about her attitude towards him. Would've been simple to make up an opinion of men like him, but Nathan was an unusually tough nut to crack. She was wary of how her other colleagues have been growing somewhat lenient towards him. He hasn't done anything to compromise that thin veil of trust that seemed to be weaving between them. His willingness to scale a mountain and participate somewhat in a firefight just to meet-up with a contact showed the Old Sniper he was more committed than most, at least. Or stubborn.

"Well, you're here now and I guess that's all that matters," Ana conceded, pulling the hood down to reveal her silver, braided hair. "Come inside so we can get out of the cold. And take that helmet off while you're at it, please."

"Why?" Nathan questioned, his brow furrowing under his mask.

"Would you like it if I visited your home and wore a mask the entire time?"

He grumbled at her words, considering there were corpses around them but raised his hands to take his helmet off unless he wanted to incur more smarminess from the older woman.

Removing it and feeling the cold Saharan air bite his face, he followed Ana further to the temple, looking at the sandstone structures – some of them already crumbling. A pair of obelisks stood tall in front of the main structure that the Egyptian was leading him. Statues of a birdman carved into its front walls and hieroglyphics atop the entrance. These weren't the ruins he was used to, but the Wanderer still felt an impression of the old as his boots thumped against the sandy floor.

Leading him inside the main structure, it looked to be their main base of operations. Computers were set up along the main wall, a workbench for her gear and equipment on an opposite corner, and opposite of that corner was a makeshift kitchen complete with a dining table and a shelf of food. A couple dirty and non-dirty plates to the side of a blue bin filled with water.

"Help yourself to some tea if you'd like," Ana said, pointing to the big pot at the dining table. "I still have to wrap a few things up before I can give you the data they need, so feel free to walk around our humble abode. Just don't touch anything."

Nathan lightly grunted at her hospitality. He knows she would've preferred anyone else to have climbed onto that ledge. She did do a good job of hiding it, though.

While he wasn't thirsty for tea, he decided to at least off-lay some gear from his body. Going over to the table next to Ana's station, he started by planting his helmet onto it before unslinging his rifles, then his duster, and then the pieces of riot armor on his torso and chest. Until he was only in his white shirt and jeans. His M1911 still hanging around his waist and Pip-Boy around his wrist. After he had stripped himself of his gear, he looked to the workbench and saw her rifle under the light, recently clamped in place after the skirmish. Stepping closer to it, he bent down and took a good look at the weapon. His eyes glossing over its features and noting how unique it was. The Wastelander felt the urge to grab the rifle and see how it felt in his hands but shoved that thought away.

He turned around to see Amari still on the computer, her back to him. Watching her silently working on whatever he was there for. For a moment, he felt like walking over to her and asking her a few questions. To get some more context into what exactly he was picking up and delivering back to base. Maybe figure out what the hell they've been doing in the middle of the desert. And maybe… Just learn a little bit more about who the Sniper was. The drifter wasn't one to skip out on questions, but that thought was only for the moment before he turned and walked up the stairs that led to the roof. As Ana was typing onto her computer, she paused, her head slightly turning to watch the tall man go up the stairs. Only when did he go up to the roof did she stop looking and went back to her work.

There was a nice perch on top of the temple that gave a view of the entire cemetery. Quite ideal for a for anyone with a long gun. Although good enough for Nathan to puff away on some cigarettes, feeling the clouds fill his lungs before blowing it out into the open desert air. Watching the smoke go up into the sky filled with stars, not drowned out by the light pollution of the city. A sky full of lights, desolate atmosphere of the desert, and hiding out in old ruins gave the Wastelander a familiar sensation. The name of the place didn't help, either, thinking he was going to see a Ghoul shamble out into the open at any moment.

After taking another puff, he held the cigarette in his mouth as he looked down at his Pip-Boy. It was still operational, still reliable, but the sight of that crack on the screen was starting to bother him more than it should. It didn't feel right to see that on something built like a brick, and there weren't a lot of backups he could fall back on. Even then, it wouldn't feel right to get rid of it either. He still couldn't believe that the Old Doctor just gave it to him.

"Here," Ana's voice suddenly came up from behind him, accompanied by her hand appearing next to him with the data-drive he was sent to pick-up. "And since you were getting comfortable."

She then produced a teacup with her other hand, steaming hot. Nathan took the data-drive but hesitantly looked at the drink. His eyes switching back and forth between the beverage and her eye. Noticing she had changed out of her cloak and was now in a gray tank top and black cargo pants.

"Just drink it," the old woman adamantly suggested, nudging it closer. "It's healthier than that death-stick you're smoking."

Nathan glanced at her and looked at the cup, again. Finally grabbing it by the handle and bringing it to his nose. It smelled pleasant.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, still unsure what to think of the gesture.

"You can lighten up, you know?" Ana said, leaning against the wall overlooking the cemetery. "With the formalities, I mean. I'd like to not be constantly reminded of how old I'm getting."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Shoving the data-drive into his pocket, he then pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and brings the teacup up to his lips. Taking a sip, the first thing he feels is the heat pouring over his tongue and burning it. A second or two later, he then feels tastes something sweet and bitter wash over. Before taking gulp and feeling the back of his spine tingle from the sudden warmth inside him. The bitterness was probably from the cigarette.

"Not bad," Nathan admits, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Ana responds, smiling a bit. "You know, I'm a bit surprised that Fareeha would be sending you to check up on us."

"Is that so?" he asks, but in a rather rhetorical tone. He knew what she meant by that.

"It shows that she's starting to warm up to you. Perhaps trust you, and I've heard she's not the only one to think this. You've been making quite a reputation for yourself back at Gibraltar. Seeing what you've done first-hand, I'm sure it's pretty well-earned."

"Where are you going with this?"

The Courier looks at the Sniper questioningly, noting how odd and sudden the conversation had turned. Preferring to call attention to it rather than beating around the bush. Ana's face grew more earnest, but not indignant. She appreciated his bluntness.

"All I'm saying is that I'm more trusting of the judgment of my daughter and of my friends than just you," the Amari stated, looking him straight in the eye. "Especially my daughter; She's a very capable woman, and I'll hope you'll be keeping that in mind. Don't know how long you are going to be stuck with us given your…  _Situation_ , but might as well have someone around whose proven useful. God knows this organization needs it."

"I feel like we've had this conversation, before?" Brin observes, though not completely doubtful. "I thought you hated my guts just a few weeks ago?"

"I didn't trust you, I didn't say I hated you. I still have my doubts, but they shouldn't be too much of a problem. For the both of us."

"I see. Thanks for being forward with that information, then. I hate it when people keep shit like that to themselves."

Ana chuckled a bit, pivoting her body to lean more comfortably along the wall, near her telescope and laptop.

"No problem," she said, turning to the screen. "I know what it's like-"

Her face lost its smile when she looked at the green-colored screen. Nathan noticed, watching as she goes over to the telescope and uses it with her eye. He looks up to see what the Sniper had spotted and notices something drifting along the dunes, leaving a cloud of sand in its wake. Very faint, not enough to make a storm. Ana lifts her head back up from the scope and only has an annoyed expression on her withered face. Not really phased by it.

"Everything seems to have the worst timing in my growing age," she remarks, her voice mirroring the annoyance. "It looks like we have a straggler."

Instantly, Nathan knew who she was talking about.

"I'll take care of this," he stated, placing the still steaming teacup on the stone and marching towards the stairs.

"What do you plan on doing?" Ana questioned, her tone now more cautious.

"Take him out. What else?" he turned, one eyebrow raised.

"Is that really necessary? The man fell a few hundred meters. I'm sure he's suffered enough."

"And let him go back to whoever sent them? They might send more mercs if word gets back to them. But I'm sure being set up in a place called 'Necropolis' kinda makes the precariousness of it all expected, doesn't it?"

Ana then just narrowed her eyes at Nathan but because couldn't deny the validity of that response. He had a point about their situation becoming more compromised if the last home invader got out of their grasp.

"Look," Nathan begins, holding up his hands. "All I'm saying is that he's my responsibility. And it doesn't feel right leaving a mess and not helping the person who just gave me tea clean it up. even when I didn't ask for it."

His response was just met with silence and a hesitant stare. Even with the one eye, he could feel her bore through him.

"Well, if you're serious about that then gear up," Ana advised, already heading downstairs. The tall man then following her.

As they passed the first set of stairs and were about to cross the second into the ground floor, Nathan paused as he looked down to see something blue flickering on top of a red bedding. The blue light is a hologram of a little girl with ornaments hanging from her bangs. The Wastelander then saw a collection of framed photos by the foot of the bed. Bending down to take a closer look, he sees three photos and saw that it was the Overwatch agents long ago. Some of them familiar faces, some of them not. Almost astounded by how young they looked. The photo of a young mother giving her daughter a ride on her back with their arms extended like wings keeping his attention longer than it should've.

'So that little girl is the serious, no-nonsense military woman who flies in power armor,' he listed in his head, becoming astounded at the details. 'And that beautiful lady is the old woman in the other room…? Holy shit, she was hot.'

He shook his mind clear before it could go to some weird places, making sure not to drool at how much of a looker Ana was back in her day. Climbing down the stairs then scrambling for his Mauser, bandolier, and Ranger helmet. Still, even as he went back out in the Saharan night, his mind ran with thoughts about the people he saw in those photos. Thinking how drastically different they looked and how much time must've passed in between then and now. Even Dr. Ziegler looked younger in the group photo, surprised that was possible.

He further shook those thoughts away, noticing the bodies that were on his path were now gone and was now at the cliffside of the plateau. Putting the Ranger helm on, he then looked down at his rifle and flipped the safety off. Looking towards the horizon, his eyes bright red eyes scanning the horizon and trying to find where the straggler had gone. Eventually, they landed on a figure staggering through the dunes and kicking sand up. Some of the sand was discolored.

The Courier crouched, his right knee to the ground while his left knee was up in the air and provided a rest for his supporting arm's elbow to help stabilize his aim. Peering through the scope, the crosshairs glided over dunes before until he caught the sight of crimson stained sand being kicked up. Finally getting a good look at the man. He was covered in blood and grime, his fatigues torn, and looked like one of his arms was pointing in the wrong direction. Watching him trying to stumble and limp across the sand. To the wounded man's credit, he got quite far in his state. A couple hundred meters at most, but he still had an entire desert to cross.

'I guess I'm doing you a favor,' the Courier thought, steadying his breathing. 'You wouldn't last long like that.'

After a few more controlled, even breaths, steadying the crosshairs on the staggering man's torso as best he could. Following him with the muzzle for a while. Suddenly, the man tripped again and fell to the sands. He now had a view of the man's bruised face, seeing his target stare up at the night sky. Even though the features were still somewhat faint given the distance and the light, he could see the man's eyes shut close and his mouth open as if to let out a scream into the desert. The Courier didn't hear it but watched him as he slowly placed his trigger finger into the trigger guard. Regulating his breathing to steady the scope. Ready to fire off a shot. Until the sound of approaching boots interrupted him.

"You won't be needing that old rifle for this," Amari stated, bringing with her the telescope and a rifle. Not the same one he saw in at the workbench. It was fairly worn and had red tallies on the side of its receiver. However, the scope on it looked clean and wasn't scratched up. Looked like the newest addition. "Here, this should land the shot."

Nathan disengaged his low-light vision and put the older rifle down, before standing up to be handed her rifle. The first thing he felt about the long gun was its light size, the composite materials making it feel like a feather compared to the wooden stick he was holding earlier. Its design was very reminiscent of the rifle at the workbench. Probably the closest he'll get to touch it.

"That rifle is a Kinamura-.338 or K-338 for short," the Sniper began to explain. "It takes .338 Lapua rounds. It is accurate up to 2000 meters and has a velocity of up to 980 meters-per-second."

"What's with the scope?" the fellow sharpshooter asked, noting there was some damaged where the scope was mounted. "Seems new."

"A replacement. The last one I lost the same day as this," she explained, pointing to her eyepatch.

"Ouch… You ever got payback on the bastard who did it?"

"No… Not yet."

Not how her tone changed upon saying that, Nathan went ahead and grabbed one of the magazines she had then inserted it into the rifle after some fumbling. Next, shouldering the rifle and trying to feel the best position he could place his hands on. It felt rather awkward, the rifle's "stock" not really accommodating for the tall man's long arms and the foregrip being close to the actual grip. It was a strange design, the lack of a cheek rest and a trigger guard making him forget all the eager curiosity he had earlier. At least the scope was decent, illuminating the target with a calm blue and having a pretty astounding zoom.

"Shall we move on?" the Old Sniper said, wanting to get to the task at hand.

The younger man complied by taking his earlier stance and pointing the rifle towards the horizon. Ana lying on her stomach next to him and peering through her scope. It wasn't long until the two found the man again, Nathan now able to see him in greater detail than with the Mauser.

"Eyes on target," the Courier alerted, slowly drifting the muzzle.

"He's a person, not a target," Amari corrected with a stern tone. "We might as well leave him with that much."

The Courier's eyes peered to the left in their sockets, before staring straight ahead, again. With his right hand, he pulls on the charging handle and watches as a round pops up into view and rests against the bolt. Noting another strange design choice for this rifle.

"Open-bolt?" Brin questions. "Really?"

"Are you going to put him out of his misery or not?"

His lips thinned when she said that, before his mouth exhaled and went back to regulating his breath. They could only hear the air softly blowing around them as the Courier trained the scope's crosshairs on the back of the wounded man, who was limping away at a much slower rate than earlier. The Sharpshooter slowly guided his finger to the trigger and squeezed it – crisp and easy. The bolt slammed the .338 round into the chamber and the rifle kicked, but not much. Expecting a cloud of blood, the powerful instead kicked up a cloud of sand next to the man. Startled, he quickly looks back at the cemetery. Nathan now able to see the man's scared expression as he pulled on the bolt to let another round up. Could even make out the scars and cuts on his face.

"You're hitting just to the lower left of him – Adjust your aim," his spotter instructed. "We're trying to put him down, not scare him in his final moments."

"I'm aware of that," the sniper responded, his crosshairs now following a rapidly moving target.

Letting out another sigh, he steadied the crosshair and made the adjustments but now trying to lead his target. After what seemed like a minute of watching his target scrambled desperately across the dunes, he fired off another round and lit up the area around them in a fiery flash. He watched as the magnum round, practically instantly, nicked the man on the side of his head. Making the already wounded man bring his working arm to his ear. He was close, but the Courier wasn't aiming for his head. No self-respecting sniper ever did. They were too small of a target at this range.

"Looks like the wind picked it up," the spotter informed, still gazing through the telescope. "Sure you don't need me to take him out for you?"

The Courier was silent as he brought the bolt back for a third time, hearing the round clicking in. His eyes still trained on the running man, who was now practically dashing across the sand and trying to evade the blue crosshair on his back. After only a few moments of deliberation, he felt the rifle fire off another shot and watched as the fiery ball flew towards his target. Only to then graze his shoulder, ripping some clothes up but possibly not the flesh.

"All right, give me the rifle," Amari sighed, her eye still on the telescope. "I'm not getting any younger and you're just wasting ammunition-"

She suddenly heard him growling as the Courier released his eye from the scope and set the Kinamura down. He then swiftly brought up his Mauser.

"Wait, what are you do-?"

She didn't finish her question as the Courier fired off another round, this time an 8mm Mauser. Ana brought her eye to the scope and tried to reorient herself to find the man. She finally did, seeing a figure slumped against the hill of a dune and him with blood seeping out of a wound on his chest to the sand around. He was motionless.

"No offense, but I don't like that rifle," Nathan honestly admitted, referring to the Kinamura as he lowered the Mauser.

Ana just looked up at him, her one eye squinting at the man and her mouth slightly agape. Not sure what to think of what just transpired, other than be slightly perplexed.

"Sure, that sniper's better than this old ass relic. I'm just saying, I'm not really feeling it. 'Practiced hands make for short work', but not when the tools are uncomfortable to use. I'd take this or a .50 BMG any other day."

"Whatever works best for you," the Old Sniper relented, getting up from the ground and dusting off her clothes. "A .50 BMG seems excessive, though."

"For people, maybe," the Courier said, already heading back to the main structure, the Mauser slung over his back.

Ana watched him go, standing there with one hand on her hip and a slight frown on her withered face. She lets out a little scoff and shakes her head as she bends down and picks up her telescope and rifle. Approaching footfalls make her look up to see Jack coming to her, his masked face looking at Nathan go before addressing his old friend.

"What was that all about?" Jack asked, taking his mask off to look at her with his own eyes.

"I don't know," Ana sort of answered, looking back to the main structure. "I might've learned something about him."

"And what is that?"

"He kind of reminds me of you."

* * *

The sun was already rising when Nathan had left Amari and Morrison at their sandy hideout, the morning following him all the way back to Gibraltar on his short trip. Getting off the transport, he saw the landing area had a few personnel roaming about, the day only beginning to start for the rock.

The Wastelander even felt himself dozing off as he walked across the asphalt, cursing himself for not taking a nap on the return trip. He couldn't wait to get back to his quarters, wanting to strip himself to just his skivvies and plop down onto his bed. Feeling the refreshing, cool embrace of the sheets on his skin. Another nice place to relax on the off time.

Suddenly, an alarm started blaring throughout the base, red lights along the walls flashing to life. Nathan and the other personnel near the landing pad looking around and wondering what was going on.

"Alert! Unidentified aircraft incoming!" Athena provided the answers over the intercom. "Repeat: Unidentified aircraft incoming! Approaching landing zone three!"

Nathan's ears perked at that, looking to his left to see a big number three spray-painted along the walls of the area he was at.

He pulls out All-American and points the rifle to the sky, scanning for the possible threat. Eventually, his sights land on a ship moving through the sky. It had a white, almost clean exterior and floated with thrusters that seemed to emit a gentle blue light rather than a fiery propellant. It was angular, sleek, and smooth with its design. Though, as it got closer to the ground, it revealed a graphic on its hull. A white and blue stylized "V" with a diamond shape above it.

Security teams were scrambling around him and began taking up position around the landing zone. Taking cover behind some crates, Nathan kept his carbine trained onto the aircraft as he heard metallic footfalls approaching his side. Turning to see someone in blue, winged power armor running up to him with a rocket launcher in her hands.

"Brin, what's the situation?" Captain Amari questioned, her eyes concealed by that golden visor.

"Some white ship is dropping in," he informed her, looking back at the aircraft. "Don't know who it is, but they ain't bombing us. Yet."

"Okay, stay here! I'll get to my men and make sure the situation doesn't escalate."

"Good luck, Chief."

The Security-Chief then rocketed to the sky, flying over to the security teams. After a few more moments, the zooms of blue flashes and the clinking of spurs not far behind made him turn around once more to see Oxton and McCree coming up. The Brit still in a tank top and shorts and the Gunslinger in his outfit but without the poncho and leather leggings.

"Oi! What's going on?" the Brit asked Nathan.

"I think you're about to see for yourself," he answered, looking at the ship to see it has landed on the ground.

A door slid open, the collective sound of everyone's weapons charging as it did before a ramp fell to the ground and provided a walkway for the passengers. Then, two figures began to descend the ramp in clothes that match the vanity of their own ship. Nathan peered through his scope and got a closer look at the figure. One a man and the one behind him a woman. He instantly recognized the woman.

"…Vaswani…?" he let out, almost in disbelief.

He watched as Satya Vaswani and Sanjay Korpal, he now remembered, stepped onto the asphalt, and stood there, looking around. Apparently not fazed by all the small arms pointed in their general direction. Remembering what Vaswani could do back at the banquet, he doubts they would be in that much trouble. Then, the sound of something thumping hurriedly against the asphalt made them look back again to see Winston barreling to the landing pad. Dr. Ziegler with him, as well, in her doctor's coat. The gorilla rushed right past the three and continued towards the ship.

"Stop! Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" Winston pleaded, waving one arm around.

All the security personnel and agents lowered their weapons, looking at each other with confused expressions.

"Don't shoot! Vishkar is here for a meeting!" the ape further explained. "They are simply here to discuss something with us!"

"Hold on a tick – Vishkar?!" Lena angrily exclaimed, in disbelief. "What the bloody hell are they doing here?!"

Nathan looked at her then back at the ship. He rose from cover and started walking towards the landing site, his carbine still in hand. Lena and Jesse followed right behind him. They stopped around 15-20 meters away from the aircraft, now watching the interaction between the Vishkar employees and Winston. Dr. Ziegler, still at Winston's side, looked back to see the group gathered behind them. Nathan nodded at her. Angela smiled at him, before addressing the visitors.

"I must say, Mr. Winston, this is not the welcome we were expecting," Korpal said, looking around with a calm demeanor. "I thought we contacted you to inform you of our arrival?"

"Y-yes y-y-you did!" Winston responded, nervously laughing. "I received your message, but I didn't see it until it was already too late. I'm not going to lie; your visit is rather sudden! You've caught everyone here off-guard."

"We are pressed for time, Mr. Winston, and any earlier notifications of our visit could lead to some… Unwanted attention from malicious parties. Necessary precautions. If you'll please, sir, may we find a place to discuss this further? Somewhere more private, as well?"

"Yes, of course! Uh, this way, please."

Winston gestured with one arm to the direction he came from, the two Vishkar employees walking straight ahead. All eyes on them. Both Korpal and Vaswani kept their eyes focused on the path ahead as they walked past the security personnel. The red eyes of Nathan's helm being one of the sets that tracked them as they walked, mainly directed at Satya. She ignored their stares, but as she passed the tall man, her eyes darted to him – first his helmet then something at his side, before snapping them forward. Soon, they were out of sight, making their way to Winston's office.

"Well, this day just got more interesting," Angela stated, sighing as she moved a strand of loose hair across her forehead. "It barely even started."

"I don't like having those corporate lackeys here," Lena seethed. "I wonder what they're even going to discuss?"

"Well, whatever it is," Nathan joined in, taking off his helmet and yawning. "I'm going to fuckin' sleep. Rather deal with this shit with a couple hours of rest."

"I'm with you there, I'm knackered," Lena admitted, walking alongside him as she stretched her arms high into the air. "We're both going to need it for the mission that Winston's going to send us to."

The tall man stopped in his tracks and immediately began to pinch his nose. Letting out a tired groan.

"Whoops! Sorry…" the Brit sheepishly said, shrinking into her shoulders. "I probably should've let the big guy tell you that?"

"Where is the mission, at least?" the Californian demanded.

* * *

_A day and a half later…_

Nathan was sent to Africa for the second time this week, but further south of the Sahara than he's been before. The desert wanderer, dressed in a dark short sleeve dress shirt and beige cargo pants, looked out of the large window in the airport terminal he was standing in. A sizable piece of luggage sitting next to him and a large duffel bag over his shoulder. Looking out onto the African landscape surrounding the city, not seeing a vast and open desert but a vast and open grassland. A few trees and shrubs dotting the endless plains of beige. There are certainly worse places to build a city.

"Oi, Brin!" he heard Oxton call out to him over the terminal's noise, turning to see the spiky-haired brunette in an orange tee and jeans. Trying to blend in with her signature colors. "I got my stuff. We all set?"

"Yeah," he answered, as he picked up the luggage roller. The roller feeling having some heft to it, as it carried delicate equipment. However, even after grabbing those, he still felt something was missing as he kept looking for something in the terminal. "Wait, where's Zenyatta?"

They got their answer in the form of a crowd of people gathered in the center of the terminal, humans and Omnics forming a circle around someone. Nathan and Lena exchanged glances before hurriedly walking over there. The taller man broke through the circle, first, parting people to the sides as Lena followed close behind. Getting to the center, he sees the robotic monk just chatting with an Omnic. Electronic and non-electronic laughter then erupting from the people gathered.

"…And that is why it is better to bend than break," Zenyatta said, chuckling slightly at the end.

"You're pretty funny for a Shambali," the Omnic he was talking to said. "Will you be visiting Numbani long?"

"We will see how far my work will take me. Of course, I wish not to rush things while I am here in your wonderful home. The Iris knows this place needs it."

The Monk's metal head looks back at a wall where a construction crew was posted at, working to mend a huge crater in the wall. Nathan then placed a hand on his metal shoulder.

"We should get going, Zenyatta," the human said.

"Of course," the Omnic acknowledged, before turning back to the crowd. "My deepest apologies, but I am needed elsewhere. Peace and blessings be upon you all."

The crowd returned similar exchanges and gestures, Nathan looking back as he parted through and exhaling an amused scoff. The three eventually made their way to the streets of Numbani, already distancing themselves from the "Adawe International Terminal" as they roamed the sidewalk. The Waster, looking around at the tall buildings and architecture, just seeing the African city as another advanced hub in this world. Though, it had a certain character to it that the others did not. It was odd to see what seemed like more primitive decorations and symbols planted right onto the wall of a curvy skyscraper. Some of the buildings shaped to look like animals. Even seeing what appeared to be spears and shield through some of the window shops.

"So, this is the 'City of Harmony', huh?" he asked, eyes high to the sky as he watches a tram car drifting along a railing. "The aesthetic feels a bit more… Tribal. And I'm speaking from personal experience."

"Yes, the city is certainly bursting with the local culture," Zenyatta added, also looking around as he floated. "But tribalism wouldn't be an apt description of the people here. Human and Omnic, obviously."

"So, I've heard. What was that big crater in the wall, though?"

"Doomfist…" he heard Lena growl in front of him, as they neared a tall building with the words "Chancellor Hotel" holographically stamped on it. "I'll explain who he is later as he isn't important and is unfortunately long gone by now. Let's check into the hotel and drop off all our luggage. Then, we need to head to a club to meet up with our contact."

Nathan's hairs on the back of his neck stood up and felt his body get colder when she uttered the word "club", his ears starting to ring as he remembers the last time he went to one of them. He then mentally shoved that aside to try to maintain a neutral expression.

"Why a club?" he questioned, for his sake really.

Lena then, oddly enough, just smirked.

"Our contact has a thing for music," she answered, still maintaining the smirk. "I just hope the place is playing some of his tunes."

That only made the Wastelander narrow his eyes at her, wondering what the Brit meant as they went to the hotel, back onto the streets, and now outside an establishment that had a repetitive, electronic booming erupting from its insides. Already, Nathan was starting to get irritated while Lena and Zenyatta didn't seem to mind the noise. Zenyatta, he could understand because of the lack of ears, but he couldn't understand how the fellow human didn't seem phased by it. Walking further into the building, they head towards a doorway flanked on either side by two guards in suits. Lena, who was leading the group, stopped in front of them and spoke. She seemed giddy and happy in her speech - more apparent the closer they got to the club - contrasting the two rock-solid men staring at her.

"Name please?" one of them gruffly asked.

"Lena," she declared, beaming. "And these two are with me. He should be expecting us."

The two bodyguards exchanged looks before one of them left his post and went inside into the room that was glowing blue. A few moments later, he returned and gave a nod to his colleague.

"Go right in," he merely said. "He's waiting."

"Thanks!" Lena gratefully, going through the door as the other two followed.

Though, the guards eyeballed Nathan as he walked by. The tall man returning the gesture.

Now inside, the Wastelander took on the full brunt of the electronic music and blinding visuals of the club they were, but still able to make out the features of the room. It was a medium-sized, square room with the tiles emitting a constant blue hue and providing the main source of light around the room. There were fancy pieces of furniture lined against the walls, some of them occupied by human and machine. The music, while a much gentler and bearable beat than he expected, still wreaked havoc on his psyche and gave him the urge to turn his Pip-Boy's speaker on to dilute it.

"There he is!" he barely heard Lena as she began to bounce over to a couch to the left of them.

He saw a few people on the couch and chairs surrounding a table but saw in the middle of the couch a dark-skinned man with long tube-like dreadlocks, a green tank top with a white frog face on it, and blue shorts. However, Nathan did a double take as he could see the man manipulate disk-shaped holograms that waved and contorted with the beats of the music that was playing. Playfully bobbing his head up and down, his eyes closed, and waving one arm around. His entourage was in the moment as well. When Lena approached, did he finally open his eyes and look up, his face lighting up into a bigger smile than when he was jamming.

"Oh yeah! Look who's here!" the man declared, standing up to greet the woman. "The one! The only! The-"

"Shh!" Tracer shushed the man, though with a coy smile. "Y'know I'm not really supposed to be here, right?"

"Oh? Yeah! Sorry, I'm new to this."

"Don't worry, it's not every day we get to meet somebody amazing. I'm speaking from my point of view, of course."

"Aww, you are just too kind! Please, sit down and-"

His face lit up again as he saw Zenyatta float closer.

"Well, if it ain't the wandering monk himself! I've heard so much about you! We gotta discuss the meaning of life sometime, bro."

Zenyatta chuckled at that, his metallic head bobbing in place.

"If that is what you wish, then I can't deny," he said, holding one of his metallic hands in a fist towards to the elated man, who then bumped it with his own.

"Now we got a party, how 'bout we start it and-"

The man turned around and stopped when he saw Nathan, towering over him. He was quite short compared to the Waster, and his smile was then replaced with a surprised gape.

"Wow, I knew they were going to send in some muscle, but man!" the shorter man observed, his eyes going up and down Nathan's body. "You gotta show me your regimen, man!"

"Uh…" the Courier could only perk an eyebrow. "Who…?"

Lena then jumped in between them, placing a hand on Nathan's shoulder.

"Oh, I should've introduced you guys, first," she said, a bit sheepish. "Nathan, this is Lúcio. One of the best musicians alive!"

"Lúcio" smiled at that, holding a hand to his chest to contain the pride.

"And Lúcio, this is Nathan. He's our… Well... He good at what he does."

"I can respect that," Lúcio says, before holding out a hand to shake. Nathan then taking it with some hesitation before they all finally sat down. "Welcome to the party."

Lena and Lúcio started to break the ice first, casually discussing some things while Nathan sat there in one seat, watching them. Occasionally looking around and trying his best to bear the noise. Watching the small crowd of people dance and flail their bodies around to the music. Their moves as erratic as the beat.

"Well, Lúcio, I'll get straight to it," the undercover Overwatch agent stated. "Why did you want to contact us?"

"For starters, I wanted to know if you guys could provide some extra security for a concert I'm hosting here. The last concert I'm hosting here before I leave the city," the musician explained, pouring her a drink. "Ever since Doomfist attacked, spirits have been a bit down around here. So, I'm sure having you guys around will make everyone feel more at ease. Even if you guys aren't technically 'here'. Besides, a lot of stuff has been happening around the world lately and I don't think Numbani is clear of it, yet. But… That's not the only reason I called you guys here."

"What's the other reason, then?"

Lúcio looked at her before closing his eyes and taking a deep sigh. Addressing her again after the air escaped his lips.

"I want to join Overwatch."

Even with the music blaring, Nathan's ears perked and snapped to the man musician on the couch. Tracer also had an adverse reaction to his wish.

"Woah, that's quite a big commitment," the Overwatch agent observed, wide-eyed. "Are you really sure about this?"

"Have been since I heard about you guys' stunt at the museum," the musician said, with a serious face. "And your stunt at London. Egypt. Germany. China. And I could go on but I don't think we have the time… So, what's it gonna be?"

Before Lena could even voice her opinion, she felt a large hand grace her shoulder.

"Oxton, can I speak to you for a moment?" he requested, obvious that it was about the dreadlocked man in front of her.

She excused herself before following Nathan to the opposite corner of the room. One look on his face showed he wasn't very excited about they're possible recruit.

"You can't seriously be considering this, are you?" Brin discussed, scarred, muscly arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't know," Oxton admitted, her eyes peering back at the couch. "But I do know that Lúcio is an amazing individual and can do a lot of good. He's done so, before."

"Sure, but are you certain he'll fit right in with a military organization that employs a hulking German in power armor to a cybernetic ninja? You told me he's a musician."

"Are you worried about him?"

"I'm worried letting in him we'll cause something down the road. If Overwatch was the best of the best back in the day, what makes  _him_  qualified?"

"I'm sure Vishkar can answer that for you," they heard him speak next to Nathan, looking to see he had gotten off the couch and was next to them, his arms also crossed but with a smirk on his face. "Since I helped the people of Rio to evict them from our home; Leading a citywide rebellion, a pretty undertaking, you'd imagine. Would I have preferred a more peaceful solution? Sure. Was I willing to fight for the freedom of my people? You bet. Am I willing to prove myself to help the world by joining you guys? One-Hundred Percent."

The two just looked at him, Lena widening her eyes as Nathan narrowed his eyes. After a couple of moments of relative silence, the three then heard cheering erupting from the back of the room and looked to see Zenyatta amid a crowd of onlookers, cheering him on as he dances in coordination with the music. Robotic mannerisms and fanciful manipulation of his orbs. The Courier then looked back at Lúcio.

'A robotic monk, a time-jumping Brit, and a psychotic Wastelander…' he mused in his head, listing off the individuals in this room alone. 'What's another oddity to our ranks?'

"Y'know what? Whatever," he relented to the musician, deflating. "I'm not a part of the employment process anyway. I hope we're not just here on a recruitment drive…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! I'm sure some of you have noticed that this takes place a couple week after the last chapter. I did that because I felt the story was progressing a bit too slowly than I would've preferred, as there are a lot of cool ideas I have in mind that I really want to show you all, but it felt like forever just getting to that point. I may have to do it again in the future, but we'll see. Thanks for reading!


	30. Synaethesia Doloroso

Numbani, Western Africa

2076

It was a nearly pitch-black room, everything either blacked out or nonexistent. There was only one light source in the room, a monitor, and in front of the monitor creating a silhouette was someone sitting in a chair. The furious tapping and clicking of a holographic keyboard united with the rampant sounds of war from the speakers. The noise of a video game being played. After a few moments of unrelenting hand movements, enemies on the screen being eliminated with superior precision and tact, the player in the chair is congratulated with the cue of fanfare and the words "Victory" in big bold letters of gold. As the computer monitor slowly fades to black, the triumphant theme still playing, the player sighs and leans back into the chair, relieved but not surprised at the outcome. To the left, a white-gloved hand reaches across the desk and retrieves a bottle with condensation glossed over the glass, twisting the metal cap off and letting air rush out before bringing the neck to their lips. The bottle is green, has a white label with green letters that might as well be scribbles to anyone not familiar with the language. Then, it is revealed that the person drinking from the ice-cold beverage is a young woman with pale skin, ornate glowing headphones on her head, and pink war paint on her blemish-less cheeks. Parting her lips from the bottle with a sigh, she twists her head as if she was staring someone in the eyes and holds up the bottle, reading the words on the label without looking.

"Nano Cola…" the young woman says in a very suggestive manner, smirking coyly as the screen fades to black.

Nathan Brin sat in the middle cushion of the couch, staring at the penthouse T.V. screen with a confounded look on his face. His eyes drift down to look at his right hand holding the same brand of soda. He nearly finished it, in fact.

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah, this commercial kinda sucks," he hears a partygoer to the left say, on a separate piece of furniture with a girl. "It's boring and bland. And the whole seduction thing at the end feels so forced."

"I prefer the one from her country," his lady-friend adds. "Korean commercials are so entertaining. They know how to have fun."

Nathan looks at the two in bewilderment, looks at the T.V. screen in bewilderment, and back down at his soda in bewilderment before rolling his eyes and getting up from the couch to head to the penthouse bar.

They were at Lúcio's hotel room, attending a little party he was throwing before his concert. An excuse to drink and socialize beforehand, probably. Others executing the latter activity better than him, as he sees Lena happily chatting with fellow fans while the musician himself was just at a table manipulating more holographic disks. Making more of that music grate against Nathan's ears.

'Least Oxton seems to be keeping her cover,' Brin noted, polishing off the rest of his soda as he went to the bar to get something with a bit more bite.

The man wasn't alone, as Zenyatta "occupied" one of the stools and was having a friendly chat with the bartender tending to the patrons, who also happened to be an Omnic but in a typical bartender uniform. Ironic for a machine with no mouth to be serving drinks. The bartender addressed Nathan as he planted the empty bottle on the bar top.

"Scotch on the rocks, please," he requested, the Omnic nodding and turning around to retrieve the drink.

"While I am not one to tell someone how to live their life, I'd wager it'd be wiser to practice abstinence before our mission," the floating monk offered, his head turned slightly.

"I tried abstaining, but I need something to help numb this noise," he expressed, somewhat derisively. "Maybe some of the people, too."

The bartender then returned to the counter with a short glass with ice and a bottle, pouring the caramel-colored liquid into the glass. Nathan nodded gratitude before taking it in his hand and taking a generous sip.

"What are we doin' partying, anyway?" he questions, clearing his throat as he feels it burning. "I thought the DJ had a concert?"

"He does, but it isn't for another hour or so. Until then… Leisure, I suppose."

Nathan regards Zenyatta for a moment before shrugging and bringing his drink up to his lips. Taking another generous sip, his eyes sweep across the large penthouse and over the faces of the other guests. Eventually, his eyes landed on the host himself, jamming with people gathered around him. Watching him play music with those holograms as if entranced. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"Well, are you okay with this?" he questions Zenyatta as he leans back against a stool.

"I am content with relaxing," the monk answered, softly. "No need to rush things if not required."

"No, I meant him. Are you okay with… What might happen?"

Zenyatta's metal head tilted slightly, shifting to the left for one eye slit to be regarding Nathan. The Omnic silently contemplating a response. After several moments of thought, he reoriented his posture to what it was before the question.

"I guess," he simply answers, making the man next to him snap his head and look at him for a couple of moments.

"That-"

"Was rather measly of an answer, wasn't it? Truth be told, if Mr. dos Santos is willing to enlist for a cause such as ourselves, then I see no reason to object to his decision."

"How do we even know he's good in a fight? He seems more content blasting noise than getting in the thick of it."

"There are alternatives to fighting."

Then, somehow hearing it amidst all the noise, there was knocking to their left at the hotel room door. Nathan looked around, to see if anyone else noticed and was going to attend to it. There was another series of knocks, louder and more pronounced, but no one in the room seemed to react to it. Too enthralled by the music.

"Eh, fuck it," Nathan shrugged, setting his drink down and going over to the door. "If no one else is going to."

"Proactive thinking!" he heard Zenyatta jovially observe.

The Waster scoffed and shook his head as he neared the door. Wrapping his hand around the nob and twisting, the door swung inward and he expected to see either more partygoers or room service. Instead, he was met face to face with a robotic yellow faceplate staring right at him and towering over him.

"What the-!" Nathan exclaimed, arching back and tensing up as if to fight. His eyes scrambling all over the robot's form.

Indeed, it was another robot, but it was nothing like other's he's seen in this world so far. Its torso was large and tanky, two long green "tusks" on the chins, and a set of large legs with a loin cloth in between. As it cocked its head, Nathan watched as its eyes "clicked" as it addressed him. The eyes rotating into two arrows pointing up, raising one of its arms with an open palm.

"Greetings!" it said in an accented, feminine voice, waving her hand like Bastion. "We have been invited by Mr. Lúcio. May we come in?"

"W-we?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing at the huge robot.

"Uh, excuse me!" he hears another feminine but higher pitched voice chime in.

Looking down, he sees a dark-skinned girl, only about half his height. She had a "crown" over her face with a visor that matched colors with the robot, rings with similarly colored horns dangling from them, necklaces and accessories around her neck and wrists, and wore a shirt that exposed much of her stomach and arms. She also had white dots speckled around her eyes.

"H-Hi!" she greeted, sounding timid in her accented speech. "Sorry for the intrusion, but yes, Mr. Lúcio did invite us to his party. Is-is he busy? Occupied? We, uh, can come another time!"

Nathan squinted at the little girl, switching between the two. Noticing the significant height difference between them, and wondering why the young girl was hanging out with such a huge robot. Probably a guard dog her dad got for her.

'And I thought Bastion and I were an odd duo,' the tall man thought to himself.

Suddenly, another voice rang as it rushed to the door.

"Is that who I think it is?" Lúcio exclaimed with elation as he ran to the door. "Efi! Orisa! Glad you guys could make it! How's it hanging?"

Instantly, the Wastelander watched as the little girl went from timid and meek to her eyes becoming wide as disks and her mouth becoming agape. All the while, her robot still maintained those "arrow-eyes" and repeated her earlier greeting gesture.

"Efi and I are very well, thank you for asking, sir," Orisa responded, her eyes then switching back to an ordinary circular pattern. Her pupils glowing yellow.

"Y-yes!" the little girl added on, though she still seemed a bit nervous. "Th-thank you for inviting us, Mr. Lúcio! It was, uh, v-very cool and… Uh, nice of you to do so! Very coo- wait, I already said that. Just… Uh… Thanks!"

'Jeez…' Nathan thought to himself, watching the exchange as he got back to the bar. 'And I thought I knew star-struck when I saw it. She's like a kid back home meeting the Vault Dweller… Or me.'

The dreadlocked man laughed heartily, the young fan still a bit flustered.

"That's great to hear," he said, beaming. "Why don't you come inside? Still got a few hours to chill until the concert. Why don't I introduce you to everyone else?"

"Oh, uh, sure!" the girl hesitated, before being invited inside to the penthouse. Her behemoth of a robot walking in after her and looking around at everything.

Lúcio happily placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the rest of the party, smiles, and greetings being exchanged as Efi and Orisa were toured around the penthouse. Nathan and Zenyatta silently watching them. Well, Nathan couldn't really tell what the Omnic was looking at. Moments after the new guests had arrived, the two were then joined by Lena as she went to the bar and picked up another drink, hopping on the stool between the two.

"Enjoying the party, lads?" she asked, sipping through a thin straw.

"The alcohol, at least," Nathan responded, still eyeing the robot and girl. "Who're they?"

"Efi Oladele, a local child prodigy, and her creation… Orisha, I think?"

"Orisa," Zenyatta corrected her.

"Thanks, and the two are kinda like local celebrities. Efi because, as I said, she's very smart for a kid her age, and Orisa because she's... Well, she's basically the city's protector."

"Just her?" Nathan questioned, observing the quadruped.

"No, they were other Omnics like her, but do you remember what I told you last night? About Doomfist? Let's just say there aren't a lot of robots like her, anymore."

"Why is she still here, then?"

"I told you. Efi made her. Brought her back to life, so to speak."

Brin pursed his lips in surprise, looking back at the girl and the robot. Seeing them happily chat with a couple on an adjacent couch. Efi much more at ease than she was minutes earlier. Then, he looked at Orisa and noted how she dwarfed everyone in that room, both in height and bulk. Yet, the machine acted very friendly and seemed to look at everything as if it was scanning it and trying to decipher what it was. Just like Bastion.

'Smart kid,' impressed if that robot really was of her own volition. 'I just hope we don't end up babysitting.'

* * *

An hour or two later, the sun began to set and the guests vacated the penthouse and were told to wait for Lúcio before going to the concert. Unbeknownst to them, they really were just escorted out of his hotel room to give the Overwatch agents some privacy to gear up before heading out. The musician there to witness the whole thing. It was sort of magical for him, seeing acclaimed heroes getting ready for the line of duty. Only made him want to make sure his hard-light skates were fastened properly, to not look like he was slacking.

"How do I look?" Tracer asked, fastening her chronal accelerator to her chest before posing for Lúcio.

"You look awesome!" he exclaimed, feeling a bit surreal at who was standing right in front of him. "Oh, I gotta hear you say it!"

"Say what?"

"Y'know. You're catchphrase!"

"Catchphrase-?"

She stopped herself upon realization, then snickering and bringing a gloved palm to her face. Bringing one of her hands to wave one finger side-to-side, shaking her head as she does so.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no," the Brit said with a disapproving smirk. "You're not getting that out of me that easily!"

Lena then heard boot steps coming from behind and turned to see Nathan once again in his black armor, towering over everyone, as usual. Weapons slung over his coated form.

"We ready?" he asks, the helmet filtering his voice.

The Brit then responded by flipping her pulse pistols out, spinning them on her palms as she twirled around on her legs. Finishing by grabbing the pistols by their grips and standing on one leg, giving a playful wink.

"Ready!" she playfully declared, maintaining her pose.

"Don't-" the armored man started, his posture tense and taken aback. "Don't spin your guns like that, again. Please."

Her smile then dissipated as she cringed, realizing her shoddy muzzle discipline.

"Sorry about that," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Woah…" Lúcio uttered, walking closer to the Courier and gawking at the armor he's wearing. "I've only seen this thing on the holovids, but your armor looks scarier in person! Never seen anything like it. Where d'ya get it?"

"Nevada," was as much as Nathan was willing to say.

"Really? It says 'L.A.P.D.' on your chest."

"Surplus."

The shorter man tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowing. He then just shrugs it off as they were already pressed for time and he didn't really want to question someone who was with the New Overwatch. Especially someone with that armor.

"If you say so," he says, turning to the others. "I think we've lingered here long enough. Come on, people! I don't want to keep my fans waiting!"

With a grin, he hopped and skated away on those curious little skates, leaving a trail of green light that seemed to spark but dissipate like smoke. The agents were about to follow until the one draped in a duster asked one more question.

"We're going to a concert, right?" the Wastelander asked, his helmet unable to hide the apprehension in his voice.

"Yeeeahhh…" the Brit answered, addressing him with a hint of concern.

"And he's going to play more of that electric music, right?"

"Yeah."

"And it's going to be loud, right?"

Lena only nodded this time.

Brin takes a deep breath before lowly exhaling. His head craning up to the ceiling he did so. One of the few times she's seen the rugged man act like that. Hopefully, it doesn't interfere with the mission too much.

"C'mon it won't that bad. I promise!" she tries to reassure him in her peppy, jolly tone. "Who knows? You might grow to like it. Lúcio's stuff is top-notch!"

"Whatever you say," Nathan responded, though clearly not entirely relieved. "Hope it isn't too loud."

"You've got a helmet. You should be fine!"

* * *

"You were wrong, Oxton!" Brin exclaimed loudly into his helmet, but it was drowned out by electronic noises emanating from the very large speakers on the stage. "Fuck!"

"Awww, lighten up!" Lena responded over the radio. "You're starting to sound like my Nan."

They were at the concert, arriving as the show was starting, and were treated to an absolute overload of the senses by the performance. The venue was a large stadium with a huge crowd of people gathered in front of the stage where Lúcio was performing. Nathan was far away from where the DJ was, high above in the rafters and overlooking the entire concert. An ocean of bodies bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the music pelting them. Possibly more people here than he's seen in most cities. Wondering further how one musician could attract so many people. This supposedly being one of his "smaller" performances.

"It might be a bit too late to ask this question," he questioned, having to yell in his helmet. "But why are we acting as bodyguards for a musician?"

"There are a lot of people out there that aren't big fans of Lúcio, and I don't mean just his music," Lena explained, things a bit too noisy on her end. "You know how Vishkar was driven out his home of Rio in an uprising, right?"

"Yeah, I read about it on that 'web' thing. Why?"

"Who do you think led it?"

It took a while for that to sink in before Nathan scoffed in near-disbelief. Then, he narrowed his eyes when he had realized something.

"Vishkar visited us just a few days ago…" he noted, thinking back to seeing Vaswani walking side-by-side with Winston. "Do you think that has any significance with what we're doing now, Oxton?"

Instead of a response, he was met with relative silence. Emphasis on the relative

"Oxton?" he reaches out, again, wondering what was up. "Oxton, can you hear me? Oxton?"

More silence among the loud electronic noise.

"Oxton! Lena, do you read me? Tracer!"

"What?! Oh, oops, sorry 'bout that!" he heard the Brit speak into his ear, apparently caught off-guard. "I guess I'm getting into the music, a tad too much."

"…Really?"

"It won't happen again, Brin. Just keep watching our backs and I'll keep my boots on the ground."

"Sure," he replied, trying not to sound like a sarcastic-ass and failing. "How are they not even noticing you?"

"I blend in well with crowds. Especially huge crowds entranced by music. Too bad you can't join."

Nathan huffed as he continued watching over the entire venue. Watching the light show being displayed on the stage, wavy and erratic patterns filling the backdrop and somehow coasting along the walls that were big screens themselves. Yet, they moved along with the music, sometimes changing colors rapidly with every beat. The lines compressing and stretch with the noise. Mesmerizing for much of the attendees, almost nauseating to the Courier. The Strip's lights paling to this. It was impressive.

Suddenly, the song that was playing ended and the electronic noise was quickly replaced with a thunderous applause from the crowd. All of them cheering and clapping for the man in green at the stage, holograms and computers surrounding him. Lúcio bowed playfully, before grabbing a microphone and bringing it to his mouth.

"All right, let's bring it down, now!" he exclaimed, a repetitive beat still playing in the background as he gestured the palm of his hand down, coaxing the crowd to a lower volume so he could speak. Even though he was on the other side of the stadium, Nathan could see him grinning as he overlooked the crowd thanks to a big-ass screen over the stage. "I just wanted to say, that in the time that I've spent in your beautiful city – in your beautiful home – I am only showed further proof that there really can be something good in this world. Especially when I see all these beautiful faces in front of me. Omnic and Human!"

The huge screen above the screen then switched to a camera shot of the audience, the camera panning and zooming in on them with impeccable detail; faces and faceplates showered by the show's light. Some signs they held even making it into the shot. The crowd erupted at that, but the DJ kept speaking.

"In fact, if there is somebody I want to bring out onto this stage and enjoy the music with. A smart, little girl who has been doing a lot of good for this city with the help of her big friend. Everyone, please welcome Efi Oladele and Orisa onto the stage!"

With a spotlight appearing on the side, the girl and her Omnic ran out onto the stage, and to Nathan's surprise, to a very loud, welcoming ovation. The giant screen above the stage switched to a camera shot of them, following closely as they went over to Lúcio at his turntable, embracing both the girl and the huge Omnic in a hug. The screen showed their expression to be beyond joyful. Orisa making those upward pointing arrow-eyes, again.

'Really?' the Courier questioned, astonished at the amount of fanfare. 'All of this just for a little girl?'

"Anything you two want to say to the crowd?" Lúcio asked, offering his microphone.

Exchanging a glance with Orisa, Efi grabbed the microphone and brought it up to her mouth as she faced the crowd.

"H-hello, everyone," she greeted, the crowd cheering louder and causing the little girl to crack a smile. "I just wanted to say that-"

A shadow cast over Nathan, quickly turning to see nothing but open sky and the moon staring down at him in the rafters. He stood up to his feet, eyes still fixed above him as his hands wrapped around his marksman carbine. After staring up and seeing no further movement, he turns back to the stage.

"… and that's all I have to say. Thank you!"

The audience clapped and cheered as Lúcio took the mic from her and spoke up again.

"Thank you very much, Efi!" he expresses, still maintaining that smile as he hugged the cheerful girl close. "And with that, this next song is dedicated to you, the beautiful people of Numbani; We love you!"

The speakers blared with the entry of another song, that quickly developed into a series of beats that fizzled like electricity before giving way to another, stronger beat. The audience went wild and jumped manically to the beat, but Nathan's face scowled as he looked back up to the sky and seeing nothing else casting a shadow.

"Fuck it," he said, moving from his spot to find a way to the stadium's higher levels. "Tracer, I'm going up to the roof to check something out."

"What? Why?" Tracer questioned, slight concern in the tremor of her voice.

"I might have seen something. Need to confirm it."

"Need any help?"

"Stay down there and keep an eye on things. I'll holler if I need help."

He switched on his helmet's low light vision as he got through the darker parts of the stadium, traversing the catwalk to find a way up. He thought about that shadow, how there were no lights near his spot other than the slight glow of the moon. The rest of the sky drowned out by the concert happening beneath him. As he got through maintenance tunnels and climbed further up, the sound of the concert grew fainter, but still loud enough to be heard through the walls. The deeper he went into the stadium's facilities there were signs of disuse. His lowlight vision helping immensely in these dimly lit areas. Felt like a maze, getting by with the few signs that were fortunately in English.

Eventually, he came across a utility ladder that led him further up into the rafter and decided that it would be good enough. Climbing onto it, he soon finds himself onto another catwalk. Looking around, he sees it is closer to the sky and was situated under a set of large stadium lights that were currently off. The concert was in view again, but the people on the ground looked even tinier. The music now a bearable level to Nathan.

He walked cautiously across the catwalk, his boots clanging against the grated floor. He reached the other side of the catwalk and saw it was a dead end, before going around the back and going behind the light-array. Seeing nothing else in his vision. He was far from done though.

'Gonna have to find a way to the roof,' he observed, seeing there was a lot of ground for him to cover. 'Should've sent the Brit to scope this out. She'd have a much easier time than-'

The Courier stopped in his tracks, a feeling tingling down the back of his neck. Something cold. He turns around to see seven glowing red-eyes staring back at him. Their owner hanging upside down.

The Courier barely had time to react as a metal cable wrapped around his throat, his hands instantly letting go of the rifle and going to the cable. The tension causing his knuckles to dig into the exposed bits of his neck as he felt himself be somehow hoisted into the air. He felt the tightness all around his throat, the feeling of his windpipe being constricted and trying to gasp for what little air he could. The weight of his large stature working against him. The only thing keeping him from snapping his neck being the hands struggling to hold on to the cable. He could still see through his helmet, watching as something drops down from the catwalk. His lowlight vision allowing him to see the woman haunting his dreams, still in that skimpy outfit. Her visor separated to reveal yellow eyes, staring up at him with a harsh gaze. Her lips then curling into a cruel smirk.

"Such a disappointment," Widowmaker sighed, shaking her head. "And here I thought the 'man in black armor' would be a challenge? But no - Just another fly caught in my web."

'You fucking bitch!' he wanted to scream but had to conserve the little amount of air he had.

She walked, no… Sauntered up to Nathan and reached up to him before unclasping his carbine from the strap and held it in her manicured hand by the shroud.

"Hmm, I'll be keeping this to make sure you don't use it while I'm working," she said as she walked to the far end of the catwalk and threw it unceremoniously onto the grated catwalk, almost making it fall off. "For now, why don't you hang out? I would like an audience for my performance. Don't worry,  _mon ami_ , I'll let you breathe when I'm done. I'm not finished, yet."

She chuckled lowly again as she brought her rifle to shoulder, her visor clicking together as she brought the scope up, while the Courier still dangled in the air. His mouth still gurgling.

As the pain seeped through his hands and neck, his mind raced to anyway to get out of this. To free himself from the noose. He wondered how much time he had before she would take the shot on whoever her target was. He couldn't reach for his other guns, and even if he could he didn't want to risk slipping and snapping his vertebrae. He could try and call out for help over the radio but risked expending his last breaths and being shot to death by the blue sniper if he made a peep. Nathan looked around to find a solution, the limited view of his helmet in that position not giving him much. However, as he peered up, he may have found salvation.

Above him was a beam support for the stadium lights, but he saw a cable wrapped around it with a claw keeping it in place. Nathan followed the cable with his eyes and saw it led straight to the noose around his neck but was also connected to the gauntlet around his executor's arm. Watching her, he hesitantly let one hand let go of the noose, feeling it constrict more than he wanted it to, as he used his free hand to grab a section of the cable above him. Barely able to grab onto anything substantial. She didn't seem to notice, so he repeated his movements, painstakingly climbing up the thin string of metal and trying not to slip.

"Allez, montre-toi…" he heard her muse to herself but trying to focus on climbing the rope, counting each inch. Then counting every centimeter.

He could feel his eyes watering, the tightness in his chest becoming unbearable. Feeling himself drift further into unconsciousness as the blood circulation was cut off. Sweat pooling across his brow and forehead. The remaining hand around his neck shaking and starting to slip out of the vise. Trying his best not to dangle and flop too much, trying his best to stay calm. He knew how the human body reacted when being lynched, he knew how painful it was. Just surprised it took this long for him to experience it. All the while that damn music and the cheering audience still pervaded his ears.

"Where could he be?" she asked herself, dragging out the words with her accent and tenor.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour of climbing the rope, he could reach the thin beam and grabbed onto the claw. The hanging man tried to shake it loose, but the hook's mechanized prongs would barely budge. Struggling to set it loose without notifying her with the vibrations. Trying to muster enough strength to open that claw but feeling more lightheaded with every passing second.

Fortunately, he forced them open with an audible click. However, it was at this moment that Nathan realized he should've planned for what happens after as he fell to the catwalk.

"Quoi?!" the blue Sniper expressed surprise as his weight shook the catwalk and made her get off balance, her gauntlet arm jerking to the side, before turning and scowling at the man on the ground coughing violently.

Looking up, he reaches behind and grabs his M1911 from his holster. Not wanting to fire her rifle and alert anyone else to her position, Widowmaker ran forward and kicked the gun out his hand before he could even fire and spun around to deliver another kick to his head. Even with his helmet, the blow was enough to knock him to the left and hit the railing. His dazed eyes becoming wide in shock as he watches his .45 Pistol fall far down. That beloved pistol becoming lost among the dark spaces of the stadium. He then felt the cable wrap around his throat once more and her shifting weight slams him to the ground onto his back. Nathan looks up to see her standing over him and about to slam the stock of her rifle into him, but halts the weapon with one hand before slamming his Pip-Boy to knock her off her feet. The Sniper yelping as her back connected with the catwalk.

"Fucking die!" Nathan roars as he produces his knife and swings it down, Widowmaker craning her neck to barely avoid the blade being driven into her head and only through the grating.

The assassin then jumps up and onto his back and tries to choke him once again and utilize the cables as a garrote, but cries in pain as he feels his elbow slammed into the side of her stomach and strong hands grabbing onto her shoulders and hurling her off him. She tumbles a few meters ahead on the catwalk before stopping and turning her head with a hateful glare. Pointing her left hand into the air, her claw shoots out and latches onto an unseen surface as she flies up and towards Nathan, who scrambles to unsling his Mauser until two heels to the face, knocking him onto his back, again. Quickly, he spun around and brought the muzzle of his rifle up but only sees Widowmaker's shadow briefly in the sky before promptly disappearing behind a stadium structure.

"Fuck!" he yelled in frustration as he brought a hand up to his helmet, but not loud enough to contest with the closet. "Oxton, come in! There's someone here!"

"What?!" Tracer responded, fully paying attention, now. "Who?!"

"The fucking blue bitch!"

"Blue… What? What do you mea-?"

Tracer's face shifted into horror as she realized who he was referring to, then shifting into a concerned frown as she spoke up again.

"Where did you see her?"

"Up in the rafters, but I think she got up to the roof. I'm chasing her down now."

"I'm making my way up there, right now. Tell me when you see her!"

'I'll gladly shoot her first, but sure,' he mused to himself, picking up All-American and charging off the rafters and into the maintenance halls.

Dashing upstairs and scrambling atop ladders, the Courier was hellbent on finding that Sniper. Get payback for what she did and what she has been doing to him. Thoughts of making that pretty little face of hers slam against the ground, taking a knife to it, or blasting it with a high-powered rifle. Just thoughts of maiming it in any way possible coursed through his mind. His breathing becoming ragged as he kept running, not of fatigue but of the anger that was building up inside of him. The rage that was making him bare his teeth like a wasteland predator. The blue woman his quarry.

"Why are you fighting?" a voice rang in his helmet, but not the one he was expecting.

The Courier stopped in his tracks, stunned, and waited there in a silent corridor before he went any further. His eyes darting all around his helmet.

"Why are you fighting for…  _Them_ …" she questioned further, her voice dripping with resentment at the last word.

"I don't think you gave me a choice you fucking bitch!" he coldly replied, growling as he started running again.

The Courier heard her clicking her tongue as if she was disappointed with something.

"There's no need for that language,  _monsieur_ ," she remarked at his vulgarity, acting as if she was talking to a child.

"Whatever you say,  _puta_ ," he responded, not even caring that it wasn't the same language.

"You are making this more difficult than it should be."

"And you signed your death warrant with me when you almost executed me! Twice! What makes you think you have the right to talk to me?!"

"If you had let me do my job properly, I would've gladly let you down and take in your precious gulps of fresh air. Then, we would've had the opportunity to discuss something with each other. Something beneficial. You were not going to suffocate for long."

He was already rolling his eyes. This world may not be entirely a radioactive wasteland, but he could tell it didn't have a shortage of deceptive degenerates. The Courier practically grew accustomed to spotting bullshit miles away. He knew whatever the Blue Sniper had in plan was a ploy. Her actions did little to justify whatever she was spouting.

"Eat a dick," was all he said to her.

"Hmph," was all he heard her say.

Finally, after that eventful conversation, he found an entrance that led to the roof and slammed his shoulder into it, swinging it wide open. Revealing a dark sky above a flat, white roof with barely any cover. Aiming his rifle, he cautiously walked into the area and waved his muzzle around as he scanned everywhere. Making sure to keep his eyes on the sky. Until he just found himself in the middle of an empty lot on the roof, with no activity to be seen anywhere. He kept breathing shallowly, his body hunched over his rifle, as a sudden flash of blue made him spin around.

"Woah, it's just me!" Lena exclaimed, holding up a hand as she looked up at him.

Nathan lowered his rifle and sighed, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I take it you didn't find her, then?" she asked, looking around and spotting nothing around them.

"She spoke to me," he flatly stated.

"What?!"

"Over the radio. Before I got here. She somehow contacted me on my helmet's radio and… Asked me questions."

"And?"

"I told her to fuck off."

Lena squints under her goggles at the man in black armor, wondering if she should scold him for waving off some potential intel or thank him for saying what she wanted to. However, she learned that their comms were somehow intercepted, and that wasn't something they needed.

"I'm going to have to talk to Winston about our comms," she made a mental note to herself. "I looked all over, and I couldn't find her, so it looks like Widowmaker escaped, again…"

"Where the hell's Zenyatta?"

Lena exchanged looks with Nathan before bringing a hand up to her ear.

"Oi, Zenny? Are you alright?" the Brit called out, concerned if anything had happened to him or the concert while they were gone.

"I am quite fine, Lena," they heard his gentle voice confirm over the comms, making Lena relieved. "And everyone is still having a great time. It looks wonderful from up here!"

"'Up here?' What do you mean by that?"

"I am on stage. Dancing with Efi, Orisa, and Lúcio. They are quite good."

Surprised, Nathan and Lena look at each other before the latter just bends over laughing.

"That's great to hear, love," she responded, before blinking to the door and beckoning Nathan over. "Come on! I don't want to miss this!"

She blinked inside, leaving the Courier to just stand there and look at the door. Eventually, he sighed and made his way through the doorway. Still, as he walked through the tunnels, a feeling was nagging him all the way back. At how the blue assassin strangled him and had every opportunity to commit whatever twisted she wanted to do to him. Even after all that… He still felt like something was off. Baffled that she sounded like she wanted to make an exchange with a man she was lynching.

* * *

The concert for the remainder of its duration went without a hitch, with the Disk Jockey, Agents, and some partygoers returning to the penthouse for an after-party. Brin begrudgingly went along, remembering they had to stick close to the mission. The Wastelander didn't see the point of this after-party. Figured everyone would be too tired to even bother. Surprised they weren't.

He never was one for parties. Always preferred emptying a bar in peace and quiet. At least the drinks helped drown out some of the noise. The electronic music and the robotic people. Literally and figuratively.

As Nathan craned his head to drink more scotch, he winced as the skin around his neck stung, a hand going up to try to alleviate the pain. Even with all the implants and doohickeys in his body, they never helped with the pain. Always felt sore for weeks after certain escapades in the Wastes.

As he sat there, hunched over his drink, he felt someone pat him on the back of his shoulder and sit down on the stool to his left. Looking to see a mess of pipe like hair ordering a drink from the bartender. The star himself.

"Hey," Lúcio greeted, smiling as he tipped his head towards Nathan. "You feeling any better, bro?"

"Trying," he dryly answered, gesturing to the glass of alcohol that was almost empty.

"Sorry to hear that. Lena told me what happened. Sounds really rough."

"Yup."

"So, I gotta say 'thanks', man. For going through that. I never realized something that brutal would be happening at my show. Really puts the whole world into perspective and how not even a place like Numbani can be free of that, you know?"

The DJ reorients himself on the stool as he shook his head in disapproval.

"Still, doesn't mean we can't stop striving for what we believe in," the DJ tries to sound hopeful. "Otherwise, you guys wouldn't be here. I guess what I'm trying to say is: Thanks, man. Sorry, you had to go through that."

"Sure."

"I mean, that's a really harsh way to go. Especially today. Man…"

The Courier's eyes peer to the left, seeing Lúcio shaking his head as he leans against the counter. Disbelief for how things turned out.

"I've dealt with worse," was all the Courier said, as he poured the rest of his glass into his throat, ignoring the pain in his neck.

Lúcio's eyes snap to him, eyes wide in mild-shock. Especially at how casually he said that statement. A bit of unease seeping into his stomach. Then, he got distracted as the bartender returned with his drink. It looked fruity.

"Thanks, man," he expressed gratitude for the machine, then rotating on his stool as he addressed Nathan. "Well, I'll leave you to your drinks but if you want, I do have something that can make the pain easier."

"I'll pass," he replied, rubbing his neck again.

"Suit yourself, bro. Just give me a call when you come around."

As he hopped off the stool, Nathan peered over his shoulder and watch him return to the living area and be among his fans. Groupies? Roadies? Whatever the hell they were. He just counted his blessings that he was alone to nestle his drink, again. Didn't want to resort to strangling the bard.

He called out to the bartender and gestured to his drink, helping himself to another serving of scotch. As he took a fresh sip, he propped his left arm up on its elbow and rested his head against his palm. Feeling the Pip-Boy's glove rub against his bearded cheek. Lazily, he shut his eyes, his thoughts drifting. Morbidly, drifting to how many possible ways he can die. He never really accounted for being lynched. Just another footnote in his journal.

As he rested there, half-asleep and half-inebriated, the air around him swished as he felt someone taking a seat next to him on his right. However, he kept his eyes shut, not really caring and just wanting to doze off by himself.

" _Tequila, por favor_."

That almost woke him up from his stupor, opening his eyes and pivoting his head slightly to see who had sat next to him.

It was a woman, brown-skinned and with long hair that ended with purplish highlights. However, the left side of her head was shaved and glowing purple strips ran along her cranium, like circuits, along with similar patterns shaved into her hair. She wore a purple shirtdress that went down to her thighs. On her face, she had purple eyeliner, purple lipstick, and purple… Eyes?

As Nathan stared at her curiously, the bartender had gotten her drink, pouring a golden colored drink in a glass like his but without the ice.

" _¡Gracias!_ " she thanked, taking the glass and was about to bring it to her lips until she spotted the tall man next to her looking at him. She just smirked and held the glass up to him in the air. " _Salud._ "

The Californian raised an eyebrow, looking at his scotch and her tequila, before sighing and raising his own glass to hers.

"Cheers," he muttered, their glasses clinking among the background noise.

Throwing his head back and taking a generous gulp, he shakes his head as he looks at the woman and sees her do the same. Almost downing half of her drink. He watches her face wince before clearing her throat and feeling relieved. She turns to look at Nathan.

"Nice gauntlet," she complimented in a Mexican accent, looking at the device on his left arm. "Never seen anything like it. May I ask what it is?"

"May I ask who's asking?" he responded, not really willing to answer that question.

"Someone you just toasted with."

He looked at her, seeing her rest her head against her right hand as she held her drink in her left. He rolled his eyes.

"It's a Pip-Boy," he said, holding up his arm for her to see and not really expecting her to know anything he was about to say. "Model 3000. Basically, a wrist-bound computer."

"Seems… big," the woman with the glowing lights on her head noted, leaning in to get a closer look as she scrutinized the device. "Weird name."

"I guess. Now, can I get your name?"

"María. You?"

"James."

"Pleasure to meet you, James."

She held out her free hand to him, which he then shook. Albeit, absentmindedly.

"So, what you brings you here?" she asks, eyeing him as she takes a sip. "To this bar, I mean. Party's on the other side of the room."

"Just felt like getting a drink to relax. Take some of the edge off with scotch."

"You should try some tequila, then. It'll help  _muy mucho_."

" _Yo prefiero scotch_."

She twisted her head to hearing words in her native tongue and started to giggle. Nathan looked at her and frowned.

" _¿Es mi español malo?_ " the Californian questioned, watching her laugh.

" _No, eso no_ ," the Mexican replied, twisting on the stool so that she leaned against the bar. "I just didn't expect you to know Spanish. You'd be pretty hard-pressed to find a  _gringo_  that can speak anything other than English."

She kept chuckling, bringing her drink to her lips as Nathan frowned at her and tried to remember what "gringo" meant. Just remembering all the times Raul called him "boss". However, as she laughed, Nathan noticed something at the back of her neck, where some of her skin was exposed. He saw metal, also with purple highlights, that seemed to go up along her vertebrae. Grafted to her, like an implant. The back of her head even had more glowing purple lights, one even forming a circle at the center.

"If you don't mind me asking?" he said, grabbing her attention. "What's all that metal on your back for?"

"Hmm?" she let out, craning her head over her shoulder and feeling around the back of her neck. "Oh, they're just some… Body mods I had installed."

"'Body mods'? Sounds pretty strange. Do they do anything?"

"Not really. They're pretty stylish, though. You can't see it, but I have more running down my back. And then some."

"That so?" he asked, but not really looking for an answer as he brought his glass up again.

"Yup," she answered, before suddenly leaning close to him, bringing her lips up to his ear and whispering. "And I'd like to show you if you don't mind."

The Waster looked up from his scotch. Then, setting the glass on the counter before pivoting on his stool to face the Latina. Incredulous expression addressing her grinning smile.

"Really?" Nathan questioned, more in disbelief than anything.

"I dunno," María shrugged, treating this conversation so casually. "I just thought that two tired and weary adults could spend the rest of their evening having some fun."

"Why not ask the 'rockstar' on the other side of the room? I'm sure he'd like the company."

"He's cool and I do like his music, but I feel like having something more…"

Her purple eyes scan over him, smirking as she brings her fingers to rub against his right forearm.

"Rugged."

The scarred man only laughed, shaking his head as a mix of a smile and a frown formed on his lips.

"While I appreciate the generosity,  _Señora_ ," he started, only looking at his drink. "I am here on business, not pleasure. Don't think my co-workers would like it very much."

"Who cares what they think," the tanned woman dismissed. "Besides, all we're doing now is just having drinks at a party. I don't think an hour or two will interrupt your schedule that much. You did say you wanted to take some edge off, no?"

Nathan frowned at her, watching as she faces him and casually leans against the counter on her side. Thinking about what she meant with taking "some edge off". Apart from the near-death experience he had just hours earlier, losing his favorite handgun, having to deal with dangerous situations practically weekly under his contract, and the fact that he still had to find a way back home through another fucking dimension gave him a few reasons to ask for more scotch. He's astonished he hasn't even lost his mind, yet.

It didn't help that the Latina next to him was also attractive. Her face was pretty, the only blemish on it being a small mole under her left eye, but that could really go either way for some people. She had a slim figure, but as his gaze drifted downward, he saw her legs looked rather lean – as if she had been working out; He always liked women that took care of themselves. And her hair… Well, he wasn't sure what it was about her style, but it didn't help him stay content with just drinking. Besides, what the fuck else is he gonna do? It's been awhile since he got laid with someone.

"Give me a few more drinks," he said, leaning against the counter and regarding her. "And I'll consider your offer."

"Sure," she said, shrugging with a smirk. "Can we share a few?"

He just shrugged back, not really caring what's going to happen.

"I guess."

" _De pelos_."


	31. In Need of a Hangover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never expected a smut warning, did'ya? Well, you're getting one, now (for the first section at least).

Numbani, Western Africa

2076

Nathan felt the Savannah's sun shine down upon him, warming up his cold, sweat-drenched skin and urging him awake. Slowly, he opened a set of dreary eyes and sees the ceiling of his hotel room above him, the ceiling fan slowly spinning and feeling gusts of air blowing against his body. Groaning all the while, his brain feeling like it's in a vise, he cranes his head up to see he is lying in the hotel room bed. Resting an empty glass in his left hand on his naked stomach. He plops his head against the pillow, still groaning in discomfort, and reaches to the left to place the empty glass onto the nightstand. He stops shy of the nightstand as he feels something weighing his right ride down.

He turns and sees the sleeping form of María, her arms wrapped around his right arm and hugging it close. Her face buried into the side of his bicep. Of course, she also had no clothes on.

Trying to sit up, Nathan slid his arm from the woman's grasp, making her stir a little, before fully propping himself up and just looking down at her. Trying to remember how she got there, what they did. He could only recollect a haze. Not the first time.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he leans back and rests his head against the bed's headboard before bringing his hands up and burying his eyes in it.

'Always thinking with your fucking dick,' Nathan condemns himself, shaking his head in dismay. 'Just need to get her out of here before Oxton-'

He felt the mattress shift before someone plopped themselves onto his lap and place their hands on his shoulders. He lets his hands down and is presented with the nude body of the woman he slept with. The man wasn't going to lie, it was quite the sight.

" _¡Buenos días!_ " the Latina greeted, smiling with a set of dreamy eyes.

"Er, mornin'," the Californian returned, senses still muddled. "You're still here?"

"Of course," she replied, her right hand tracing a finger along the Waster's muscly, scarred chest. "After a night like that? Mmm! Was too exhausted to even get out of bed. Hope you didn't mind me staying."

"No, no, I… I don't," he yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "I still have to get ready for work."

"It's still a bit early. Your coworkers are probably still asleep… Why not have a bit more fun?"

María bit her bottom lip as she began to grind herself against Nathan's crotch, moaning lightly as she did so. The man also felt a sensation shooting up his spine, exhaling slightly as he felt something wet and warm rub against him. His eyes drifted downward and watched as her sex sailed across his, which was starting to get firm. As his breathing became slightly more ragged, his hands – as if on their own – drifted to her hips and firmly held wherever he could. Gathering as much supple, tan skin he could in his palms.

"You don't have somewhere to be?" he asks, looking up at her but as he held on.

"I do," María answered, now drifting a hand across his abs. "But I'm sure my colleagues can wait."

"Riiiight," Nathan sarcastically drawled out, watching as she broke her momentum and reached out to the nightstand on his left, retrieving a green little plastic square with the words "Jimmy Hats" printed on its side in white.

Tearing it with her teeth before ripping it open, she picked the condom inside and reached down. Grabbing hold of his erect penis and wrapping it in the latex sheath, working to make it safe for entry. The man just watching her as she did so as if a spectator despite being right beneath her.

"I've never heard of this brand, before," the Mexican noted, already halfway done. "Is this from home?"

"Yeah…" the Californian answered, sliding down so that his head laid on the pillow, so he could at least be comfortable while she did her thing. "…From home."

"I should visit sometime," she added on, raising herself up to position herself over his member. "These aren't that bad."

Plunging straight down, María threw her head back in ecstasy as she felt Nathan's cock go inside. Her hands plant themselves on his chest, her fingers digging into his skin as she begins rising up and down, slowly and making sure to savor every inch. The man below her letting out a small gasp each time he feels her sliding up and down on him, the cold air stimulating him before being enveloped in her warmth. The Latina watched his expression and grinned as she kept going, speeding up her efforts.

As much as Nathan wanted to get on with the rest of the day, he held onto her waist as she moved. Throwing his head back and moaning, eyes closed. The  _chica_  chuckled as she kept bouncing on his dick, starting to fondle one of her breasts and bring a hand down to her crotch. Further stimulating herself while also occasionally brushing against him with her fingers. The air becoming steamy between the two of them, their gasps and moans being the only noise occupying the hotel room, the man lying there as he felt himself falling into another stupor.

Then, there was knocking on his door.

His eyes snapped open and he sprung up, offsetting his partner's balance, and making her fall against his chest in surprise.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me!" the Waster cursed under his breath, hating how even he wasn't free to himself in the confines of a hotel room.

"Oi, Brin!" they heard a British voice calling out, muffled by the door. "You up? We've got a full day ahead of us."

Nathan then got María off him, despite some protests in Spanish, before hopping off the bed. He rushes to find his clothes, so he can at least be somewhat presentable, unaware that his partner was already making her way to the door.

"I'll get it," the Latina said, using the bed's blanket to cover herself.

Nathan froze when he heard the door clicking, but was unfortunately too late to intervene as she already had already twisted the doorknob. Letting it swing inward to reveal Lena, casually dressed with her backpack, looking down at her phone.

"Brin, you ready? We're about to-" she looks up from her phone, but is surprised to see a Latin America woman in place of the tall Waster. "Who are you?!"

" _¡Hola!_ " she greeted, waving the fingers on her left hand while still holding onto the blanket with her right.

Lena's eyes dart over her body to see she wasn't wearing underneath the sheet before peering to the left and seeing Nathan by the bed, and to her horror, in the nude.

"Eww!" she exclaimed, holding up her arms to shield her eyes. "Nathan, your knob's out!"

"Nice, isn't it?" the Latina naughtily asked, leaning against the doorway.

"Sorry, guys aren't my cup of tea. I-I-I-I'm not saying you shouldn't have a preference it's jus-jus-just…!"

The brunette opens her eyes and peers through the openings of her arms to reaffirm what she saw. Then, immediately regrets doing so as she squeals in further disgust.

"Ahhh! I'll be across the hall until you're done with… Whatever the hell this is! Oh my God, Brin!"

Oxton storms off, María peering into the hallway and watching her go to her room.

"She's cute," she states, shaking her head while still smirking. "Too bad we can't ask her to join us."

"Yeah, sure," he replied, trying to rub the embarrassment out of his visage. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Can I join you?"

He stops in his tracks, and just scowls at the Latina, still smirking as she walks closer and throws the blanket onto the bed to reveal her naked body again.

"What? I remember you blowing your  _leche_  all over me. I still need to clean it off."

Nathan further narrows his eyes at her, before groaning in annoyance.

"Fine, but no more sex? Alright?"

" _Entiendo_. You'll help me with my back, though, right?"

* * *

After recuperating from the horror she had witnessed, Lena got out and waited outside of Nathan's hotel room for almost half-an-hour, sitting by the door with her legs crossed and staring down at her phone. Making occasional glances at her watch, grumbling in frustration with every passing minute before going back to her phone and trying to distract herself.

Finally, she heard the door opening and jumped up to see Nathan and his muse walk out. Fortunately, in their clothes.

"I had a  _great_  time _,_ " the Latina said, reaching up and planting a long, sensual kiss on his lips. Holding him by his cheeks before separating with a resounding smack. " _Adiós._ "

Lena rolled her eyes with her arms crossed over her chest.

" _Adiós_ ," the Californian returned, but with not nearly as much heart.

She turned and went down the hall, opposite of where they were going to head. The two just watched her, their eyes following her until she turned and went down a different hallway. Waiting until she was out of sight, Lena then began to punch Nathan in his shoulder. Repeatedly.

"Focus. On. The. Mission. You. Bloody. Tosser!" the Brit scolded, emphasizing each word with a punch.

"Alright! Alright! Alright!" he exclaimed in surprise, not really hurt by her attacks but still bracing himself. "Dammit, stop! I'm sorry!"

Lena kept battering the man for several more moments before slowing down, still landing a few uncontested blows until finally letting her fists fall. Nathan then eased his stance, looking down at the small woman cautiously.

"Better?" he asks, frowning.

"Better," she nods her head, before looking him in the eye. "You have poor taste in women, mate."

"Yeah, let's go."

"I mean, seriously? Have you seen her hair? I'm surprised you could even sleep in the same bed with that night-light glowing next to you."

"And I'm surprised you haven't poked anyone's eyes out with your spiky hair. I've seen cacti not nearly as thorny as you."

"Hey!"

The two continued walking down the hall as they made their way to the penthouse to meet up with their soon-to-be recruit.

"Where's Zenyatta?" Nathan asks.

"Zenny should be up in the penthouse with Lúcio," Lena answered.

Suddenly, they heard something rumble and felt the whole building shake. The two almost being knocked off their feet. Just as soon as it started, the shaking ended, and they just stood there, wondering what just happened. The doors around them started opening, the guests poking their heads out and wondering the same thing.

"Was that an explosion?" the Brit questioned nervously.

"No," the Waster answered, looking all around. "An explosion that close would've shattered the glass in this place. Sounded like something crashed into the building."

There was another, more sudden, boom and the window at the far end of the hall shattered. Both covering their ears as they watch flame and smoke fall through the air. The guests around them now running for their lives. The two agents exchanged looks with each other, before running back to their hotel rooms.

"I'm going to see what's happening outside," Tracer said, clutching her backpack tight as she sprinted. "You go up to the penthouse and see if Lúcio and the others are all right."

"Sure thing," the Courier accepted, weaving his way through panicking hotel guests.

The brunette gave him a nod before turning and going through a door, her room. Nathan wasn't that far from his, and bursts into the room, shattering the lock. Running to his closet, he opens it to reveal his armor and gear splayed out over the large suitcase. He scrambles to put his armor on as more explosions and screaming civilians surround echo from the hallway. A man running through the halls stopped at his door and looked in, seeing Nathan in the closet.

"Excuse me, sir, but we have to evacuate the building!" he said, urging him to leave. "It is not safe here! Please, come with us…"

The Courier peeked from the closet, showing off the riot armor he was in minus the duster. Addressing the concerned man with his red eyes.

"Oh," was all the citizen said before running away.

Nathan went back to putting on his gear, getting the duster on and grabbing his weapons. He got up, walking in front of the window as he worked to fasten a bandolier to his waist. As he did so, he noticed movement in the corner of his eyes and looked up to see a black rope dangling in front of the window. Wriggling as if something was holding on to it.

"What the-?!"

He watched as a man in black tactical gear and metal helmet descended the rope and hurled toward him, boots first. The Courier dodged out of the way as the glass shattered and the man jumped into his room, circling around with a muzzle in the air. The man tries to fire his weapon at the man on the ground but is beaten by just a split-second, a burst from All-American ending him and making him fire his weapon harmlessly into the air. Watching him collapse to the ground, Nathan and gets up and approaches the man, his rifle still trained on the intruder. Upon closer inspection, he sees the familiar metal mask and red eyes he's fought in the past.

"I'm really starting to get tired of these Talon assholes," he remarked, clenching his teeth.

Distracted long enough, he leaves the corpse in his hotel room and runs through the halls. He reaches the stairs, bursting through with the muzzle pointed, but seeing it seemed clear of life. No civilians, no hostiles – but he needed to be sure about the latter. Walking up the stairs, he kept his muzzle trained above him, careful about any movement he could spot. After climbing a few flights of stairs and without warning, one of the emergency exits swung open. The Courier stopped and raised his rifle, but saw it was just a man and a woman - a couple - who froze and became wide-eyed at the armored man in front of them.

"Oh God, please don't hurt us!" the man pleaded, shielding his spouse.

"Oh, for Tandi's sake," Nathan muttered under his breath before gesturing to the set of stairs below them. "Get out of here, now!"

They stared at him as if they couldn't believe the big man in scary armor with blood-red eyes wasn't going to hurt them.

"MOVE!" the Courier bellowed, making them flinch but comply as they started making their way down the stairs. Eyeing him uneasily as they passed, while he just shook his helmeted head.

He continued making his way up the stairs, to the top floor and saw that he had finally reached the last door in the tall staircase. Kicking it open, he marched inside and saw the hallway leading to the penthouse was a mess. Room doors wide open as everyone left in a hurry, décor scattered where it isn't supposed to be, and shattered glass all over the floor. At the end of the hall was the door to the penthouse room – Lúcio's room – and it was still closed.

Nathan walked to the room, keeping the carbine's muzzle trained on the door as the sound of his boots cracked against the broken glass. As he was mere meters away from the door, Nathan saw something pop out of a room on his right and fired two shots, making another Talon soldier fall back and leave an imprint of blood on the door. Movement to the room on his left made him duck and push the barrel of an assault rifle into the air, narrowly dodging gunfire, before punching the second Talon goon hard in the stomach. Reeling forward from the pain, the man was then hurled against a wall and had the thick case of the Pip-Boy squeezing against his windpipe. Holding him there, the Courier reached for his waist and tried to grab his handgun to finish him off, but was confused as he felt nothing in the holster.

'Oh, right,' he thought, remembering he lost it the night before.

The sound of a click broke him from his train of thought and made him look down, jumping out of the way of a pistol shot directed at his gut. The silver-masked man then tried to bring his sidearm's muzzle up to bare but cried in pain he felt his wrist be crushed by the Waster before being grabbed by the throat and thrown to the ground. The Courier then got on top of him, pulled out his knife, and drove the blade into the man's chest. Ignoring cries of pain and hands trying to claw at his helmet as he pulled the blade out and drove it back in, repeatedly, the sound of blood sloshing and flesh squelching as the blade cut through. His set of red eyes just staring at his victim's, watching the life drift away from below beneath that silver helmet as the knife was held in his chest cavity. Then, he heard a room door open behind him and turned around with the bloody blade, ripped out from the corpse. Instead of a threat, it was a little girl standing in the doorway of the penthouse, looking at the knife-wielding man in black armor and the corpse of his victim below him, the blood making a puddle. Looking like she had seen a ghost, or something worse. The Courier stood up and she jumped, slamming the door shut and running further into the room.

"Orisa!" he heard Efi Oladele yell in the room, clearly terrified by what he saw.

"Great," the grown man cursed under his breath, putting the knife away and putting the sidearm that was used against him in his holster. "I hate working with kids."

The Courier ran in, slamming through the door and into the room. However, before he could even check his surroundings, he felt something strike his left side and send him hurling to the wall. The Californian grimaced in pain, instantly clutching his left shoulder, feeling as if he had taken a direct blow from the hind legs of a Brahmin. Certain that something just broke. He then felt a large mechanical hand wrap around his throat and hoist him into the air. Only able to grab onto it with his right arm, he felt himself being choked again but looked to see it was the big mechanical quadruped with the weird eyes. Except they formed two thin lines, looking as if she was narrowing her eyes at him.

"Stop right there!" the machine boomed, glaring at the man she was holding.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Nathan tried to gurgle out, the hand not much gentler than the noose.

"I am detaining you. A violent criminal. As I have been programmed to do."

"No! You're-!"

"Orisa!" they heard Efi interject, looking to see she was standing at the big hole in the wall, looking over the chaos they could hear happening outside. "They are in trouble! We have to get down there."

The large Omnic then looked at Nathan for a split-second, before pivoting and hurling the man across the room. Tumbling and crashing through the penthouse floor and knocking over luxurious pieces of furniture, only stopping as he crashed against a wall. As he wallowed there, feeling sore all over his body, he could hear the large robot stomp out of the room with her creator.

Grunting through the pain, the Courier sat himself up and reach across his left shoulder with his right hand, moving it slightly until he felt it sting right at the socket. His left arm wriggling like a limp noodle. Breathing heavily, he grabbed his left arm, again, ignoring the pain as best he could as he hoisted it over his head and pulled it to the right until he felt the joint pop back into its socket. Instantly grimacing at the pain, before there was a wave of relief and a numbing pain took over. Not the worst injury he received this week, but still something he wished to avoid.

'What a funny way to detain someone…' the Waster thought, as he reached behind and pulled out a Stimpak. 'Starting to miss the days where I just fought hopped up junkies and poorly-armed convicts.'

"Nathan, it's Tracer!" the Brit called out to him on his radio, the sound of chaos in the background. "What's your status?"

"Self-medicating," he responded, punctuating it as he jabbed the needle into his arm and heard the syringe hiss as it emptied it regenerative contents for his broken bones. "You?"

"Fighting. And pursuing. I found out what's been causing all the ruckus. It's a-"

The sound of static and fighting garbled the transmission, making what she was going to say unintelligible.

"A what?" he questioned as he got up and walked to the hole in the wall, still clutching his arm.

He looked out down below, seeing that there were people running away from something, fire and rubble all along the streets. He could see explosions occurring in the distance, a couple city blocks away, but he couldn't see what was causing them. Only that was where the people were running from. However, he spotted Orisa and Efi running towards the action. The Omnic's bulk helping part through the waves of people. They certainly were braver than most, but he was starting to question the young girl's intelligence.

"-And it's got Zenny!" the rest of Tracer's transmission came, incomplete but making the situation seem even more dire with just a name. "You need to get down here, fast!"

"Godammit," the Courier muttered under his breath, running back through the hallway before scaling down the rest of the hotel. "I'm heading down right now!"

After he ran down flights of stairs, sometimes hopping across steps to save time, he finally made it out onto the Numbani streets. The mayhem just as bad on the ground as it seemed from above. With All-American in his hands, he began running through the street and towards where the others were. Listening to the explosions and gunfire get louder, knowing that he was on the right path. There were still people running from it, another obstacle the tall Waster had to weave through on his way. Many of them didn't pay him any mind as they were too busy running for their lives, but others noticed and were equally shocked to see him.

"It's the man in black armor!"

"What's he doing here?!"

"Oh, God! Get out of his way!"

'Word gets around fast in this place,' the Waster observed, focused on getting there as fast as he could.

As he crossed another street corner, he stopped in his tracks as a set of missiles came around following a blue streak of light and crashed into a parked car, destroying it in a ball of fire. Tracer then appeared in front of the Courier, Pulse Pistols out and charged. She turned around to regard him.

"You're here! Finally!" Tracer exclaimed, a bit out of breath. "We got ourselves into a bit of a scuffle."

"With what?"

Suddenly, a large mass crashed in front of them, shaking the ground they stood on. They brought their weapons to the sky, but the Waster slightly lowered the gaze of his rifle as he saw a huge Omnic towering over them. Armed like a tank with guns and turrets over its hull, but with four spider-like appendages that stabbed the concrete where it stood. It pivoted its main body to stare down at the two humans with glowing red visors. The machine wasn't too dissimilar from the dead hull's he saw at the ruins of Eichewalde, but it was larger and clearly alive.

" _Really_ starting to miss those days…" the Waster said aloud, gaping at one of the larger robots he's seen.

The two then jumped out of its way, narrowly avoiding a blast from one of its cannons. The concussive blast did send Nathan flying across the street and tumbling along the concrete. As he tries to get up, the Spider-Omnic stomps its leg across the ground as it turns to face him. Getting ready to fire another blast from its powerful cannons. Nathan pulls out his carbine and begins unloading a barrage onto the machine as he tries to evade its fire, but only manages to make rifle rounds ping off its armored hull. However, just as the machine was about to fire, he notices greens sparks appearing along the outside of a building behind the huge machine. Seeing something gliding along the exterior. Eyes widening in surprise as he sees it was the Disc Jockey, Lúcio, wielding a weapon in his hand that looked like a speaker.

"C'mon!" the man cried out, firing his weapon and sending pulsating "rings" of energy towards the back of the Omnic. "Let's do this!"

While not doing any significant amount of damage, it annoyed the machine to the point where it rotated on its axis and faced the man skating across the building, revealing its backside to Nathan and showing it had a little jail compartment on it rear. A glass casing reinforced by metal rings keeping it in place. And Zenyatta was inside, maintaining a meditative posture inside his confines as if not disturbed by the events that have transpired.

Seeing this, Nathan rose his rifle and shot at the glass, but only managed to leave a small white speck on the transparent material. Zenyatta looked up and saw his would-be savior, promptly waving to him from inside. The Omnic then spun around and began firing machine guns at the human, the rounds trailing as he ran and dove through a store's window. Inside, Nathan got behind something solid and stayed there as machine gun fire ripped the store apart. IN a blue flash, Tracer appeared in the store with him, taking cover on the opposite side of the store, holding her Pulse Pistols up in the air.

"Fancy meeting you here!" the Time-Jumping brunette tried to lighten up the situation, bobbing her head to avoid a stray round.

"Any idea how we can take this thing down?" the Wastelander asked, pulling out a magazine with blue tape around it.

"Shooting at it until it dies?"

Even with a helmet, she could tell he was not amused by that suggestion with the way he just stood there and stared at her.

"Sorry," she apologized, before taking a more serious tone. "To be honest, we might not have the right equipment to take on this big stomper. I've got my bomb, but I don't think that alone will do much against this big lug. You?"

Nathan peered out of cover, seeing the big Omnic was now preoccupied with trying to hit Lúcio, the DJ expertly skating and bouncing from surface to surface, evading fire while returning his own. The Spider-Omnic was big, but it didn't seem too good at focusing on multiple targets at once.

"I might have something," the Courier began, still watching the war machine. "I brought some Pulse Grenades with me, but just a couple. I didn't think we'd need them."

"'Pulse'?" the Brit asked.

"E.M.P. grenades, basically. Though it usually takes a couple to take down a Sentry Bot in my world, so I don't know how this big son of a bitch will react."

"It's worth a shot. Do you have any on you?"

A stray rocket flew into the store and blew a huge chunk in the wall, narrowly avoiding them. Nathan hugged the wall harder as he looked at Lena.

"Nope, they're at the hotel room. In my suitcase."

"Leave them to me."

Lena then blinked out of cover and back onto the street, the large Omnic spotting her. Its body hunkered closer to the ground, as a set of tubes on its back opened and missiles popped out. Somebody then started firing upon the machine, distracting it and making it twist around to face its attacker. There, Nathan saw the attacker was Orisa, on a balcony, firing a flurry of green energy bolts from her left arm like a minigun. The larger Omnic then pivoted its body to her, then launching the salvo of rockets. Nathan barely had time to intervene when the ordinance flew into their target, covering the area in a ball of flame and smoke, the blast powerful enough that he could feel it from where he was. However, just as he thought the smaller Omnic was done for, more of those green bolts kept firing at the Spider-Omnic through the smoke. Then, as the smoke cleared, it revealed that Orisa had somehow summoned a blue energy barrier between herself and the missiles, still relatively unscathed. Impressed but not trying to get distracted, Nathan joined her and Lúcio, their combined firepower enough to at least confuse and distract the Omnic from focusing on one single target.

The Spider-Omnic twisted and turn, trying to figure out which target to prioritize, before it let out a terrible, electronic wail and stomped its arachnid-legs, now firing everywhere wildly. Turning the city block it was terrorizing into more of a disaster zone. Nathan cursed as another stray explosive round nearly blew him into bits and forced him out of cover, now trying to find something thicker to hide behind. Then, a large explosion above him made him look up and see the skater crashing to the ground, soot covering his body. Grunting as he tried to get himself back up. He was scooped up in Nathan's right arm before one of the Spider-Omnic's large legs crashed down at where he fell. The taller man ran, carrying Lúcio in his right arm like a sack while holding his carbine with his left and firing at the Omnic. They made it to another building, shielded from oncoming fire as Nathan laid the DJ down and began to assess the damage.

"Oh, man…" the musician grimaced in pain. "That really hurt."

"I can tell," the Courier dryly noted, rummaging his belt to find a spare Stimpak.

"Lúcio!" they heard someone call out to their left, looking at a stairwell and seeing both Efi and Orisa standing there, looking at them. The latter then shoving its gun-arm to the front and pointing it at Nathan.

"Step away from him!" the Protector commanded, her eyes "narrowing", again.

"Woah, woah, woah!" both Lúcio and Nathan exclaimed, the man in the duster getting up and holding up both of his hands.

"Chill, Orisa, chill!" the DJ instructed. "This guy's cool. He's here to help. And he just saved my life."

They both became surprised by what he just said. Orisa slackened her posture and stood there, her head tilting and her eyes clicking curiously, while Efi held her hands up to an open mouth.

"B-but but but I saw him in the hallway with the knife! Covered in blood! And he looked scary and-" the little girl tried to recollect in her mind, shaking her head as she clutched it.

"Newsflash, kid!" the Courier barked, making the little girl jump. "'Don't judge a book by its cover!' You know what a book is, right? Otherwise, you would've been smart to see I was helping!"

"Hey, man, lay off with that!" the man lying on the floor intervened, looking at the two. "Efi may have made a mistake, but she's still a kid!"

"Her toy threw me like a ragdoll!"

"Actually," Orisa interrupted, holding up a finger and making everyone look at her. "I am a modified OR-15 unit built for the purpose of providing security and I would highly advise against-"

"Shut up!"

Orisa recoiled and her eyes became wide as plates from that sudden outburst, looking around confused.

"Look, man," the music artist continued speaking for them. "She's smart, but she's still learning. Yelling at her isn't going to solve anything. Be cool."

The Courier addressed him before redirecting a glare at Efi and Orisa, growling lowly as he looked back at the injured musician. Hoping they don't get in the way, again.

"What about you?"

"Stayin' alive," the musician reassured, waving his left hand to the left and watching the lights on his body switch to yellow, accompanied by the sound of a song from the speakers of his back. "Ahhh, much better."

As he did that, Nathan then felt a tingling sensation across his body. A sense of euphoria almost overcoming his senses. Feelings of pain seemingly dampening. Before he could question further, the static in his radio came to life.

"Nathan, it's Tracer. I'm inside your room and looking at your suitcase. Which one of these are the Pulse Grenades? There's so much rubbish in here!"

"The silver cylindrical ones," the Waster answered, ignoring her last statement. "The ones that look like it has a Tesla Coil on top."

"Uhhh… Yeah, I think I found it. Is there only two of them?"

"Yup, those are the Pulse Grenades. You better get ready when you bring those things back here."

As he ended the transmission with Oxton, Nathan felt something tug on his coat. He turned and looked to see it was Efi, looking up at him with shy eyes. Good thing he had the mask to hide the scowl.

"What?!" he barked, making her flinch for a moment.

"Uhm, excuse me, sir, did I hear you say, 'Pulse Grenade'?" she asked timidly. "As in, 'Electromagnetic Pulse'?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"The Omnic outside is an 'Arachne Armored Destroyer', or AAD-51. They are heavily armored and have most of their electrical components located in the center of their hulls. If you want your grenades to work, you will have to destroy a part of their armor to access it. Explosives should be sufficient. After that, you should have a chance."

"A 'chance'?"

"These machines were designed for war by Omnics. They would've taken every precaution they need against EMP attacks."

Nathan's scowl then lightened, somewhat impressed at how knowledgeable the kid was about the big death machine outside was. But, there was still one problem.

"But our colleague, Zenyatta, is still being kept hostage by that thing. I don't think explosives nor EMP's will do him much good. How are we going to get him out, unscathed?"

"Leave that to me," Lúcio spoke up, now getting back on his feet and pulling out his radio-dish of a gun. "Orisa, are you in with helping me pull this off?"

"To ensure the safety of the people of Numbani, I will do whatever it takes!" the yellow face-pates Omnic answered, charging it arm-gun.

Suddenly, a wall caved in, a huge mechanical leg tossing rubble around and forcing them to vacate the building. Back on the streets, they faced the large machine, again, Nathan taking to the front.

"Whatever you have planned, get to it!" he ordered, firing off his carbine at the machine.

"You got it!" Lúcio said, before skating away with the others as he flicked his hand to the right and made the lights go green. "Let's double time!"

The Courier kept his eyes trained on his sights, unleashing the 5.56 Armor-Piercing rounds down range at the target. They weren't enough to severely damage the Omnic but chipped away at the metal better than standard rounds.

As he kept evading fire and being stomped on, he saw flashes of blue in the distance.

"Brin, I'm here!" he heard Oxton voice in the distance.

"Give me the grenades," he yelled over the fighting.

He watched as Tracer zipped by and tossed both grenades at him, Nathan having to let go of his rifle as he grabbed them simultaneously with both hands. After that, something swiped at him and sent him flying and crashing through a store window. Knocking displays and furniture over. Immediately, pain gripped the entirety of his body, a tightness in his chest forming as he started gasping violently. In an instant, the world felt like a blur. Barely aware of what was around him other than the agony he felt all over. His head was now throbbing as it felt like his brain was knocked around the inside of his cranium. As much as it hurt, he looked down and saw he still had the Pulse Grenades in his hand, shaking in his palms. He let them clatter to the floor as he lurched and raised his helmet up to expose his mouth, coughing out blood onto the floor.

'Goddammit,' he thinks, disappointed with himself, just staring at the patch of blood he knelt over, wheezing.

Trying his best to disregard the pain, he produced a Stimpak and jabbed the needle into his chest, maneuvering under the armor. He then grabbed the grenades and got up to his feet, now limping to the front of the store. Having to lean on the furniture to get there. Slowly, he brings a broken hand to the side of his helmet.

"Ox… Oxton," he rasped out, a sharp pain piercing him every time he breathed. "Lúcio's going to save Zenyatta. When he does that, throw your bomb onto the big fucker's hull."

"Wait, are you alright?" she asked, concerned at how he sounded. "I saw you plow through the window!"

Nathan spat some blood onto the floor, before setting his helmet.

"It's nothing, just do what I said! I'll throw the grenades after you throw the bomb. Got it?"

"…Roger."

The Courier then sat on the floor, still clutching his torso and feeling it sting. He could've guessed that two or three of his ribs were broken, probably close to getting one his lungs pierced. His leg didn't feel any better, feeling a sharp, stabbing pain when he tried to put pressure on it. Memories of falling from tall places flooding his rattled mind.

He watched the big Omnic still engaged the rest of the team, Tracer dashing and blinking all around the machine and confusing it. As it did so, Lúcio began wall riding and circled the Omnic for a few moments, before hopping off and jumping on its back. Instantly, it reacted to the intruder and began swiveling and shaking its hull to try to get the human off. Upon reaching Zenyatta's confinement, the musician slammed the muzzle of his weapon into the glass and emitted a powerful blast of audio that cracked the glass where it hit. While better than their earlier attempts, it didn't completely shatter the shell. However, seeing what was happening, Zenyatta rose from his position and the orbs that hovered around started flying and bouncing around him. Helping the man to crack the glass as the metal balls struck the weak points the blast created. The Spider-Omnic now went wild, attacking with newfound ferocity and doubling its efforts in shaking off the human. Finally, after one more blast from his gun, the glass pod shattered and Zenyatta was pulled to safety by an orb of energy. However, the hull of the machine began to spin in place with Lúcio still on it. The man trying to hang on at the breakneck speeds, but it proved too much as he was thrown off screaming and plummeted across the street.

"No!" Lena screamed, now jumping over the Omnic and readying her Pulse Bomb. "Here you go!"

However, she watched in horror as the explosive she threw was then intercepted by a projectile that originated from a slot in it armor next to a sensor, the AAD's active-protection system, rendering the bomb inert with a series of darts.

Landing on the ground, stunned, a series of explosion then knocked her off her feet and sent her flying. The pain rushing through her, her body then froze mid-air and began "rewinding" through the air in a glowing blue aura until she was back on the street again, unscathed but unfortunately aware there wasn't anything they could do now.

"Nathan, where are you?" she called out, before landing her eyes on an armored figure slumped over by the broken window.

She ran over to him, kneeling and looking at how messed up he looked before grabbing his arm and putting it on her shoulder.

"Come on, mate, we need to leave!" she said through grit teeth, struggling to hoist the big man over her.

"But…" the wounded man rasped out, his breathing still ragged. "The grenades…"

"I know, but that thing destroyed my bomb. We can't do anything, now! We need to leave or else we'll-"

A large leg stopped in their way, they turned and looked with horror as the Arachne towered over them and began priming its weapons at him. Lena looked at the man, still seeing him struggle to even stand, and thought about blinking out of there and getting out of harm's way. But it didn't feel right to just leave him. To abandon him all broken and bloody.

Then, as she began to brace herself, Nathan's hand jutted forward, and she watched as an armed Pulse Grenade flew in front of her. Just one of the grenades made it as it clattered to the floor and rolled underneath the Omnic, tipping its hull to look at it. A second later, it detonated into a bright, electrical field that reaches up to the machine. The time-jumping Overwatch agent then watched with astonishment as the little silver tube then caused the giant automaton to shake and stumble, struggling to even keep its balance as electricity coursed throughout its body. It let out a wail as if in agony, staggering into buildings and cars, knocking over street signs with little regard for self-preservation. Its weapons system started malfunctioning, either firing wildly or jamming. An explosion erupted from inside its hull and blew its insides all over the city block. A second explosion on its main cannon sent part of its face flying and it finally collapsed, some of its limbs still twitching as electricity continued to course through it. Lena just stood there, her mouth agape as she looked down at Nathan's left hand, which still held the other Pulse Grenade. The Pulse Grenade from his world.

"Well…" the Brit started, looking up at the dead Omnic in disbelief. "That was unexpected."

"Hey!" she heard the voice of Lúcio to her right, seeing him, Zenyatta, Orisa, and Efi running over to them. "You guys all right?"

"Yeah… Thanks to Nathan."

"Man, what was that? Never seen a light show like that before."

"What did you do?" Efi questioned, looking at the huge corpse of the Spider-Omnic beyond confused. "How many Pulse Grenades did you use?!"

"Just one…" they all turned and heard Nathan rasp out, shakily holding up his left arm and displaying the spare grenade.

The man then collapsed to the floor, Lena falling after him. The spiky-haired brunette was exhausted, breathing heavily as she fell on her back beside him, feeling pain radiate throughout her cut up and bruised body. She was then joined by Lúcio, who flopped down onto the concrete and stared at the sky, also tired and hurting. And they stayed there, taking in gulps of fresh air as the others watched them. The dead Omnic a couple of meters away still sparking.

"So…" the DJ let out, looking at Tracer next to him. "Does this mean I'm in?"

A smirk formed on her face, then lightly laughing, but wincing as it started aching on her chest. Kept laughing, though.

"Sure, love," the agent answered, folding her hands across her stomach. "I think it does."

"I hate to disturb this little nap we're all having," the bloodied Courier then spoke up, still not in high spirits. "But can we please get to a fucking doctor?"

Lúcio and Lena exchanged looks, regarding each other in relative silence before nodding in agreement with his request. The two, still hurting themselves, they got up to their feet and knelt to grab one of his arms each, before hauling him over his shoulders and trying to bring him across the street. The other three following close-by, all of them making their way around the huge corpse of the Spider-Omnic.

* * *

There was a dark room with a screen that showed the point of view footage of the Arachne in Numbani, replaying scenes of the Overwatch agents attacking the machine before it ultimately was destroyed. However, the combat footage rewinds, playing everything in reverse before it stopped on a single frame of a large, four-legged Omnic firing at the camera from behind a blue shield. A man in the room casually rubbed the bottom of his chin as he watched the footage with intrigue. His eyes studying the individuals on the screen. Some of the faces he knew and had a vendetta for, but others…

Tapping on a screen with a meaty finger, he forwarded the footage and paused it on another frame, this time of a tall man in a helmet and coat. Wielding a weapon that seems rather outdated. He could not tell if it really was a man with all that armor concealing him, but he could presume that someone covered in their blood and staggering in pain could be nothing else but that. However, he showed resilience earlier. The resilience that a simple hired-gun or petty mercenary would never have the mettle to possess. And this only made the viewer hum deeply in thought.

A door opened behind him, light flooding in and shining off his bald, dark head. The officer walked in, saluted the larger man before letting his arm down.

"Speak," the superior said, his accent heavy and like the ones in Numbani.

"Sir, surveillance shows Overwatch agents are still in Numbani but are too weak in their current state to pose too much resistance," the Talon officer said, straight-faced. "Shall we send in another team?"

"That will not be necessary."

"Sir?"

"They have won this battle, and they should revel in the rewards that it shall bring them."

The man turns around, towering over the officer and displayed the sheer muscle mass he had, some of it prosthetic but much of it pure human strength. Molded to his body through grit and determination. His face rigid and chiseled like a stone from the Greeks. The expression seemingly locked in a permanent scowl.

"It may be a waste of an Arachne," he noted, the scowl becoming harsher. "But an even bigger waste was sending in a machine for a man's work. Doing our men a disservice by not testing their skills in battle, letting the reward for their struggles and survival of becoming better warriors be squandered."

The officer's demeanor began to fidget a little under his superior's gaze. Remembering the punishments he would inflict on the subordinates who were less fortunate.

"So… What now, Sir?" he asked, wanting to break the small silence.

"For now, I have what I need," Akande Ogundimu explained, turning around and looking back at the screen. His eyes fixed on the man in the black armor. "There is much for me to learn about the world. How much it has changed without me. For as much as I deplore the use of that machine, it has been a valuable learning tool."

"To learn what, Sir?"

Doomfist just stared at the screen, his eyes fixated on the image of the man in the black armor. Assessing the apparent new thorn in Talon's side in his absence. As if they didn't have enough of those.

"Learn what it may take to break him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird how I put a warning for sex but not all the fucked violence I write in this story, innit?


	32. In Need of a Painkiller

Boots thumped along a cracked concrete road, the path winding up a mountain with an old facility located on its peak. The worn-down structures surrounded by large, metal satellite arrays that pointed to the sky but have not served their purpose for centuries. Still rusting to the foundation. A huge crater not far from the facility glowed with so much radiation to make anyone's Geiger Counter click faster than a hive of mutant insects. Yet, even with all those hazards, the greatest danger this threat posed to any human brave or stupid enough to listen to those ramblings radio transmissions were the inhabitants that swarmed the entire mountain. Pounds upon pounds of muscle mass packed into hulking, dark-green giants of men; Remnants from an army that ceased a long time ago, but not nearly as ancient as the facility they were guarding. Didn't help that they had Pre-War military hardware. At least the sun wasn't out, the heat would have made the situation even more unbearable. The moon, the gunfire, and occasional garbage bonfire provided enough light in the dark.

"Dammit!" one of the men, the tallest of the group, dove behind a concrete wall to evade a minigun burst. The old wall being chipped away at a thousand rounds a second, the machine making a terrible noise with its register.

Another man then took cover next to him, dressed in an armored jumpsuit and a western hat. Bandoliers around his chest and hip. He hugged an old R91 Assault Rifle close to his chest, holding onto the weapon's wooden furniture as he turned to face the other man. Fully displaying a severely-scarred face, an eyepatch over his left eye, and a ginger goatee.

"We're in shit valley, now!" the ginger man cursed, trying to peer out of cover until a stray round made him recoil back. "How much goddamn ammo does that big motherfucker have?!"

The man next to him – dressed in a brown duster and wearing aviators beneath a red cap – held up an old M1 Garand he had, his shooting hand grabbing the cloth wrapped around the rifle's grip and his support hand holding the fore end, rubbing his fingers against the words carved into the wood on its side.

"Wait for him to stop shooting, I guess," he offers, slightly out of breath.

"Oh, great fucking advice, chief," the one-eyed man remarked, returning some fire before being forced to hunker down, again.

"It was only a suggestion, Russell, you ginger fuck!"

The "chief" looked around, trying to find a way to circumvent the situation and saw on the other side was another man, also with a red cap like his, firing at the mutants with a sniper rifle behind the cover of some metal wreckage. The Sniper wasn't alone, as a floating robot with antennas protruding from its spherical body supported him by firing a red-hot laser from a muzzle protruding from its base. However, as he watched them, he then heard stomping and felt a shadow cast over him from behind. He turns around to see a Super Mutant hovering over him, letting out a bloodthirsty roar as he swung a Super Sledge at the smaller being. The man ducked, letting the hammer slam into his concrete cover and shattering it into rubble. He then unloaded a barrage of .30-06 rounds, dumping the entire magazine into the mutant until the rifle ejected its clip and made that audible "ping". The Super Mutant's face exploding into a mangled mess from the powerful Pre-War relic at a close range and collapsing to the ground with a thud.

Thinking fast, the battle rifle-wielding human got up and jumped over the dead body as he made his way around, the Super Mutant having revealed it. Rounding the corner of the crumbling building and taking cover behind a rusted-out car, he sees the minigun mutant across the road from him still suppressing the others. Letting loose an unrelenting volley of munitions that lit up the rocks and ruins around him with constant muzzle flare. Watching the rounds fly like an angry glowing swarm. The man sets the rifle down and reaches for his pack, digging through it before retrieving a grenade with green glowing coils on its body. Pulling the pin, he throws it at the minigun-wielding mutant, who notices the explosive landing at his feet before being enveloped by a field of hot green energy. Seeing that, the man ran across the road, evading fire coming from up the mountain. Getting there to find the Super Mutant was still alive but wailing in agony as green goo scalded his body, his legs appearing to have melted. The human then swiftly held his rifle against the mutant's face and fire off two shots, executing the poor bastard. After that nasty bit of business, he crouched down and began examining the dropped minigun, unfortunately seeing that it had also sustained damage from the grenade.

"Fuck!" he cursed, as what would've been a helpful tool for them in the firefight was now a piece of scrap.

"Nathan!"

He looked to see Russell behind another structure across from him, trying to get his attention.

Unfortunately, the rest of his message was cut off as something kicked him to the ground, hard, and he could barely do anything as two large hands grabbed him and flung his body against a concrete wall – crashing with enough force to crack the surface. Flopping onto the dirt, feeling the mother of all backaches radiating throughout his spine. Feeling his internal organs still shake from the force. Nathan looks up but sees the moon's light is distorted by something in front of it, looking as if the air was shimmering above him. An unseen figure bearing down on him before feeling what felt like a boulder crashing into his stomach. Screaming as he feels something break and his insides get further turned into mush. Feeling the blood flood onto his tongue wanted to make him vomit, but meaty fingers wrapped around his throat and he was raised up into the air, enough for the tall man to be lifted off his feet. His foe finally appeared in an electric fizzle, face-to-face with a very pissed off blue Super Mutant. Then, as hard as the human could and as he hung in the air, he threw a fast right hook into the mutant's face. His fist thumping as it contacted the thick skin. Strong enough to dislocate the jaw of a normal human, but only enough to piss the genetically modified super-soldier off even more.

"No more games, human!" the giant bellowed, practically spitting on the human's face and the smell of rotting meat invading his nose.

Then, one hand went down and grabbed one of Nathan's leg before the human felt himself get hoisted high above the Nightkin's head, fifteen feet into the air. The man squirmed and shook, trying to wrestle himself from the strong grasp as hard as he could. Barely budging from the monster's grasp.

"Now, you die!" the Nightkin roared into the air, over the sounds of gunfire and energy blasts.

The Courier panicked, screaming as he tried to double his efforts of freeing himself which only resulted in feeling the large hands clamp around him even tighter, almost crushing his bones. Then, the air started rushing around him as he plummeted to the ground. Not even hearing the collision before feeling it.

* * *

"Russell!" Nathan screamed, awakening and staring up at the ceiling. He tries to get up, but the sudden wave of pain in his abdomen only made him keel over and clutch his stomach with his left hand. Gritting his teeth, feeling a sharp stinging on the left side of his chest with every breath. Feeling his muscles seize up, as if jolted by a shock of electricity, before settling back into a relaxed state. He hyperventilates, only making the stinging worse and feels himself let out a few wheezes. Then, he feels a metal hand lays itself upon his bruised chest.

"Be calm, my friend, calm" he hears the soft-spoken Monk speak, hovering near the ground and close to the wounded man. "Rest easy."

"Where… Where am I?" Nathan rasped out, looking around to see the familiar interior of the dropship. His bedding placed near the open space of the basketball court.

"Somewhere safe. Now please, lie down. You will only be making your injuries worse."

The metal hand on his chest began to apply force, but gentle enough to simply coerce his body into lying back down onto the bedding, making him rest for his own good. Still, the aching pervaded throughout his body.

"But… Black Mountain," the Courier continued, exhausted breaths hampering his speech. "The mutants… Russell…"

"Rest, my friend, rest," Zenyatta calmly reiterated, laying a gentle hand on his bandaged shoulder. "In your situation, it'd be imperative to focus on recovery. Unless… You wish to discuss what you witnessed in your dreams?"

Nathan looked at Zenyatta, the Omnic looking down on him with those two slits. The nine floating spheres slowly orbiting his head at a steady pace. Despite what had happened in the past few hours resulting in his current condition and the nightmare that shook him awake, he at least felt a little bit better knowing someone like him was keeping an eye on the Wastelander. And the seasoned wanderer knew better than most to not question his blessings - the few he's received.

"Just old memories," the Courier half-answered, staring up at the ceiling.

"You mentioned a name," Zenyatta recalled, bowing his head slightly in thought before looking up. "Who was it?"

"Russell. He's a friend, back home… Was a friend."

The sound of wind rushing and feeling the cabin shake made him crane his neck up to look around, again. Nathan didn't remember getting inside the aircraft, but he chalks that up to him simply passing out from exhaustion. He looks down at his own body and sees he is covered in bandages and gauze. Seeing either discolored, bruised skin under the wrapping or red staining the cloth-like surface. Even his right arm was in a sling, seemingly hastily put there by someone who had rudimentary first-aid skills at best. He noticed there was a slight, golden glow hovering above him and looked to see it was one of those orbs the Omnic Monk could possess. Even looking at it gave him a soothing feeling, but he could still feel his bones broken.

Hearing noise to the left, he saw Lúcio at the booth with his back to them, arranging and sorting some luggage, especially two exceptionally large crates that had to be the ones he uses to store some of his concert equipment. The DJ didn't pay them any mind, as his head bobbed up and down with the faint sound of music emanating from his position. Sounded loud for Nathan to hear it on the other side of the craft. Then, he heard someone else talking and turned his head towards the center to see Lena at the command desk, looking at a holopad. The voice emanating from the device was enough to tell him who she was talking to.

"… And the big stomper collapsed to the ground in a big blaze!" Lena recalled the events, smiling as if she was recounting a bedtime story for kids. "I thought we were goners for sure."

"Well, it's great to see you weren't," the voice of Winston resonated through the speakers. "Though, you said that only  _one_  of Brin's grenades took down the AAD?"

"Yup, one electromagnetic burst and the entire thing came crashing down. Poof! I could barely it myself."

"Interesting, I'll have to inquire about these 'Pulse' grenades to him, later."

Nathan was already silently rolling his eyes, the exasperation almost enough to drown out the discomfort for the moment.

"However, I also want to discuss the extra help you had," the Scientist continued, unaware that Nathan was in earshot of their conversation. "Efi Oladele and her Omnic, Orisa. I heard that little girl and her friend were very brave aiding you guys in the fight."

"You bet," the Pilot agreed, her smile becoming larger. "I don't know what Efi's been doing, but Orisa can really hold her own."

"That's really great to hear! Especially about a talented, intelligent young woman like her. In fact, hearing about Orisa's prowess on the field and what she's capable of got me to consider some… Possible opportunities."

"What do you mean by that, big guy?"

"Well, Orisa sounds like a really heavy hitter. Very 'tanky' from your descriptions and other sources I've looked up. So, I've been considering reaching out to her and Efi."

Nathan craned his head up the instant he heard that. Trying to figure out what the Gorilla was implying from "reaching out".

"And do what?" the Pilot questioned, her face now keen with interest.

"Well, I'm still considering the options," Winston replied, though not sounding completely uncertain. "But, in the best-case scenario, we can hopefully add some more to our ranks."

After that last statement, Nathan instantly rocketed up from the bedding and sat up looking at the command center, ignoring the stinging all over his body. Not liking what he just heard.

"Really, Winston? That sounds awfully prospective of you."

"I know, I know. I'm not taking this lightly, however, but-"

"Like hell you are!" Nathan interrupted, barreling into view of the video chat, almost pushing Lena out of the way.

"Woah, Nathan! What are you doing?!" she expressed concern, looking at him and wondering how he's even able to stand. "We still have to get you back to Angela in one piece!"

Nathan ignored her as he leaned into the video chat, and stared at the surprised Gorilla straight in the eyes. Looking like he was fuming.

"For weeks on end I had to deal with your fuckery!" the Courier began to lay out, pointing an accusatory finger at the screen. "Being sent on missions across your damn world, having near-death experiences practically weekly, going into situations with little to no intel, and having to give up my shit so you can have your little science experiments. And that's only a fraction of the bullshit I've tolerated being here."

Winston just sat there, stunned, as well as the others in the cabin who could hear the argument. Even Lúcio with his headphones noticed something off and looked back at the exchange, his music on pause.

"Mind you,  _tolerated_! I was fine with all the bullshit since you held the key to my prospect of ever going back home. I knew the cards were stacked against me and I had to do what I did. Folding my deck and letting you boss me around like an errand boy. I'm still surprised I haven't lost my mind, the few things keeping me sane in this place probably being the food and some of the people. Excluding you, of course. But even then, I learn this world isn't all 'rainbows and sunshine' despite being spared from a nuclear exchange. Yet, I assumed you would know better about this world. Know what choices to make and the best course of action."

Lena tries to reach out to Nathan, but is intercepted by a metal arm and looks to see Zenyatta holding her still. She regards the Omnic for a moment, before slacking her stance and letting her arm down, looking back at Nathan glaring at the holopad.

"But recruiting a fucking  _child_?!" the Courier finally got to the point, practically spitting on the screen. "What the  _fuck_  are you thinking?!"

"Please allow me to explain!" Winston tried to defuse.

"And do what? Justify recruiting a child to your band of mercs?! For what, 'saving the world'? Because from what I've seen, saving the world can apparently involve me shoving six inches of hardened steel into some guy's gullet. Butchering him like a fucking animal. And do you know what happened? The kid that you have plans on conscripting  _saw me do it_."

Winston's expression widened in shock, Lena held her hands to cover her mouth, Lúcio clicked his tongue as he shook his head, and Zenyatta floated, silently watching.

"And can you guess how a little girl who barely looks older than ten would react to seeing a six-foot man in intimidating armor with a knife still dripping with blood? I saw, and it sure as hell wasn't admiration! And I fucking guarantee that making her a child soldier will expose her to worse things than that. I've seen machete-wielding savages commit the same treatment to kids where I'm from. Even if they don't die, chances are they've already been fucked up for good."

The Courier was breathing heavily from that tirade, still staring down the ape through the screen as everyone in the cabin stared at him. Winston stared at the screen, caught by complete surprise, and disturbed by the details the Waster gave him. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Winston brought up a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, before looking back into the camera with a firm expression. At least displaying that quality of leadership.

"I'll… Take what you've said into consideration," the Scientist stated, his tone not faltering. "I'm sorry to hear about what you had to say. The things you've seen. But I promise that if Oladele were ever to join our ranks in that way, she will be spared from the brunt of it. Despite what you may think, I  _know_  how difficult this job can be. We fight so kids like Efi don't have to. Even if it doesn't seem that way. Still, I promise that I won't subject her to that kind of experience if we ever have her visit."

"I'll believe it when I see it," the Courier coldly declared, still staring down the screen regardless of all the pain he felt.

"Noted… I'll see you all when you get back home. Winston signing off."

The video feed cuts to black, the transmission ends, and the occupants just stood there, quiet enough that they could hear the wind rushing around the ship. Then, Nathan slipped and fell to the floor, everyone scrambling to him.

"Jeez, are you all right, man?" Lúcio asked, helping him sit up. "You really gave Winston an earful."

"Yeah," Nathan conceded, grunting as he felt the pain through his body, again, his anger has subsided a little. "How much longer 'till we get to Gibraltar?"

The passengers then felt a sudden change in speed on the aircraft, the sound of the thrusters calming and the effects of turbulence becoming minimal. Lena got up and walked to the window, to see they had arrived at the landing pad.

"Not long, I guess," Lena noted, before turning and going back to Nathan. "Come on, let's get you up."

As the ramp of the Orca aircraft lowered and planted onto the ground, the first people to come out were Nathan, Lena, and Lúcio, the latter two providing support for the gravely wounded man. Thankfully, the three didn't have to go far as there was an approaching floating hospital bed on the concrete, being guided by two staff members. The two staff members were also accompanied by the blonde doctor, who looked upon the wounded form of Nathan in shock.

" _Oh mein Gott_ …" the Swiss Doctor expressed softly, before fixing her posture and directing the staff. "Help him get into the bed. The rest of you report to the infirmary as soon as possible. I want all of you checked and to be in a clean bill of health."

"No, no, it's alright, Ange," Lean declined. "We're all fine. Just some scrapes and bruises, nothing to worry about. You should focus on Brin."

"That wasn't a suggestion, Lena. Do what you must, but I expect to see you in the Medical Wing by the hour. That even includes you, Mr. dos Santos. Welcome to Overwatch, by the way."

With that, the Doctor and her staff carted Nathan away to the Medical Wing, leaving the others at the landing pad. Lena watching them go with hands on her hips and Lúcio standing beside her, scratching his head.

"Huh, I guess Dr. Ziegler really is the no-nonsense woman I've heard about," the newest recruit noted, in a sense of respect.

"Don't worry, she's nice once you get to know her," the agent assured. "Angela's probably been busy, and I doubt seeing Nathan like that made her day any easier."

"Seeing how he was just a few minutes ago, I'm not surprised."

* * *

The infirmary of the base wasn't the busiest station on location, which can be somewhat surprising given organization it's meant to be serving. The only reason it's not cramped every day is simply the organization's current size, a fraction of what it once was, but that doesn't detract from the importance it serves to everyone there. In fact, the medical wing is probably one the most important departments on the Watchpoint, by default. Mending wounds and broken limbs, among other things. The other most important facility probably being the cafeteria.

Expectedly, its services will be needed once again as Nathan's wounded body is floated through the entrance before having his cot be stationed at one of the sections in between the green hospital curtains. As the staff who guided the cot there left, Angela went to the bedside and activated the scanner to look over the wounds and injuries he sustained. The new ones, specifically.

"Four broken ribs, a fractured left tibia, broken radius and ulna in your right arm, as well as a fractured right clavicle," the Doctor listed off, looking at the scans with a disheartened but tentative look. "There seems to be no internal bleeding, though. That's good. Bones are easier to fix."

"You can thank the implants and Stims for that," Nathan rasped out, before laying his head back on the puffy cloud of a pillow. "Wished they worked faster for bones, though."

Angela did feel a tinge of humor from that but quickly buried it as she needed to attend to his injuries. She examined the bandages that were wrapped around him, peeling them off slightly to peek at the bruised skin underneath. Shaking her head as her experienced, blue eyes scanned over the patient's body and determined what she would need to do.

"I'm going to the supply room to retrieve what I would need," the Doctor stated, activating the bed's biotic field, and placing a hand on his bandaged shoulder. "Stay here. Okay, Nathan? I promise I won't take long."

"I can't really move, so, take all the time you need, Doctor," the Waster responded, staring up at the ceiling.

Angela smiled at him, but it still twitched with some uncertainty before turning and going off to retrieve the medical supplies she would need. Nathan thought he heard her say something as she walked away, but was too focused on the ceiling and his breathing to decipher what she could've possibly said. The hurt man just laid there, feeling the pain in his chest, leg, and arm, occasionally twitching his fingers to achieve a sensation before the feeling of a dagger shooting up his shoulder makes him wince and stop. He grumbles, his eyes closed, trying to focus on his breathing even if the sharp pain on his left side made him want to stop. Even with the golden glow, it didn't completely stop him from hurting.

'How many times have you been here?' he hears a voice asks him in his head, sounding tired. 'Lying on a bed, bloody and hurtin' all over. How many, Nathan?'

He takes in a deep breath but starts hacking a cough as it started stinging on his left side. The thoughts of pain he experienced in that dream flooding his mind.

'Getting swiped by a big fuckin' Omnic, that's new, but not the broken bones. At least the Doctor said you ain't bleeding inside, right? How many ounces of blood do you think would've filled up your lungs if that was the case? Five? Ten? Fifteen? Do you remember having to drain the fluid from it? How pleasant that experience was?'

The Courier gagged in bed, unpleasant memories bubbling up. Doctor visits from all over. Some of them good, some of them had no idea what they were doing.

'You can't keep doing this.  _You know that_. Why you're even trying is beyond me.  _They_  always accredited that to tenacity, determination, resolve. But you? You know the reason, and you despise it. You don't want to acknowledge it, but you know it's there. You're just afraid that when it all comes out when it will all comes crumbling down, you're never going to be able to climb out of it. Claw your way from  _that_  grave. You've done it, twice before, but now…'

His eyes were still closed, not even wanting to stare up at the clean, white ceiling and just putting all attention to his breaths as much as he can. Feeling them become unregular and unhinged. Otherwise, the knife in his side will become worse.

'They won't miss you. You're already far away.'

As he just lays there, he could faintly hear shoes tapping against the hard floor and feels someone start laying his hands on him, the feeling of latex inspecting his skin. Wearily, he opens his eyes and looks to see someone hanging over him, but it wasn't Angela. It was a darker skinned woman, long hair, and with glasses over young eyes. Nathan roused from his lethargy upon recognizing who it was.

"A-Aida?" he questioned, croaking her name out.

The student from Oasis was hovering over him, a pair of small scissors in her gloved hand, regarding Nathan and smiling.

"Hi, Mr. Boone," the University student greeted, going back to cutting away at the gauze wrapped around him. "Or should I say 'Mr. Brin'?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, after you, Angela, and the others rescued me that day, I tried going back to school. Going back to my classes. You know, like a good student. But this… the nagging feeling in the back of my head made it feel like I wasn't doing anything worthwhile stuck at that University, knowing you guys were out there. The homework, the studying, the reports. It all became tiring and monotonous after that. So, after doing some digging around, I contacted Overwatch and here I am - Dr. Angela Ziegler's assistant… I'm never going to get tired saying that."

"Wait, what about the school? The Ministries? Did they have anything to say about this?"

"I'm sure they do, but given what the current situation over there is and what happened that night… I suppose it's better that I'm here than there."

The older man looked at her, furrowing his brow as he looked down and watched her work on the gauze with those scissors. Cutting away and revealing the discolored skin beneath. She seemed to be doing a decent job at it.

"Are you really sure about that?" Brin questioned further. "It kinda sounds like you left a good chunk of your life behind, kid."

"I wouldn't really think of it like that," the student said, shrugging as she cut another strip of gauze away. "I did reflect on it. for a few days, trying to weigh the consequences my choice would have. The pros and cons. Approach it as empirically as I could, but that nagging feeling… I'm still learning new things by being here. I'm probably doing more good, too, instead of being stuck in that bubble."

"'Bubble?'"

"Oasis, I mean. It's funny, the Ministries always talk about how what they built is the pinnacle of modern society, that their work should be what other should aspire to become. Yet, at the same time, the Ministry of Immigration bars the entry of displaced refugees, citing that they will be a 'resource intensive' burden on the city with space-age technology. Or how the Ministry of Computation introduced another authoritarian bill to undermine Internet use in the city. Not even caring that people have their own private lives they would like to keep themselves and not have their information be 'examined' for research purposes. Turning anyone who uses anything with a microprocessor into a guinea pig."

She paused for a moment, before returning to slicing away at a piece of fiber on his abdomen.

"I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself," she apologized, trying to stay on task. "I really shouldn't bore you with stuff like that, especially politics. Isn't going to make the recovery process faster."

"It's… fine," the Californian assured, looking up at the ceiling. "I have my fair share of gripes with government entities, too."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You are in Overwatch, after all."

"Well, not that, but I just… Do you know what you're committing to, kid?"

"I think I have a good idea. Don't you?"

The assistant looks up from what she's doing, expecting an answer. Nathan could only dart his eyes to her and then back at the ceiling.

"I dunno," he answered truthfully.

Aida opened her mouth to speak up, but stopped herself and went back to removing the rest of the gauze for when Dr. Ziegler comes back to treat him. This went on for another minute or so, in relative silence.

"How... Has she been treating you?" Nathan asked, a small hint of interest in his eyes.

"Great, actually," Aida answered, a big smile on her face. "Angela helped make the transition to moving her much easier than it would've been otherwise. She's a fantastic teacher and I feel very lucky being her assistant. Everyone else I've met here has been nice, too."

That smile somehow became even wider, bearing some pearly whites as she chuckled a bit.

"Winston and Athena have been really nice, Reinhardt is a funny guy, and meeting Dr. Zhou was so cool. Her little robot is so cute! Though... Seeing that Bastion unit with her, alive and operational, was a little unnerving."

"I see... So, no other problems, then?"

"Well, when I met Mr. Lindholm I thought he was a little brash, but Angela told me not to worry about it. Other than that, I can't complain."

She finished that last statement with a final snippet of one last piece of gauze, discarding the discolored fiber into a trash can.

"Well, I think I'm done here," the assistant commented, stepping back, and removing the gloves on her hands. "Angela should be getting back with what she needs. So, you're going to be well cared for. Get better soon, okay?"

"I'll be tryin'," the Courier responds, watching her smile at him before turning around and walking off to attend to other duties.

'In more ways than one…'

He breathed heavily again as his head sunk further into the pillow, the pain not as intense but still enough to cause considerable discomfort if he twitched the wrong way. The Courier tried to focus on the ceiling, but his mind started to do it again. Started to wander. He grumbled as he closed his eyes, trying to think about anything else. Starting to miss the conversation he had with the young student as it was enough to distract his head. Keep its attention locked for a time. Drag his mind to other things for once.

But he started to think about the number of times he had to use the Swiss doctor's services and how he probably wouldn't be still having these visits - all sore and bloody - if it wasn't for her work on his previous visits to the clinic. The Courier owed the kind and friendly Doctor a lot in the short span he's been there. More than most other doctors, probably. How he's going to go about repaying her for all that, he had no idea. It only added to the unease.

"It gets easier," the Courier heard a voice say, to his left.

Opening his eyes, he turns his head and sees in the cot next to him another patient. However, he was in a plain blue uniform, almost like a jumpsuit, with white skin and brown short hair. He stared up at the ceiling as well, his hands interlocked over his stomach. He looked young, younger than Nathan, at least. The man did have some gauze wrapped around his arm, but it didn't look too serious of an injury.

"The pain I mean," he continued, turning his head to address Nathan with a set of brown eyes. "It gets easier the more you get used to it. Lying on the bed helps."

Nathan raised an eyebrow at him, before scoffing and putting his head back on the pillow. He didn't need to be lectured about something while he was in a hospital bed. By someone that looked younger and greener than him, no less. Being in that bed was usually a good lesson in of itself.

"Fully aware of that, pal," the Courier said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure you are," the man responds, not sounding offended by Nathan's dismissal. "I'm just saying, I feel like we have to constantly remind ourselves of that. Easy to be forgetful and be lost without it. When we do find it, however, it's a great sense of relief to have."

Nathan turns his head, curious, and looks at the man. Seeing he's staring up at the ceiling again, with his hands still folded over his stomach. He wasn't sure what it was, but he looked familiar.

"I've seen you around here, haven't I?" the Waster questions, analyzing the man.

"I've been around," the jump-suited man shrugs in bed. "Had work all over. Nothing in particular, just something to keep me busy. You?"

"… Same."

"And it's agonizing, isn't it? At least the people here are nice. Better than most places, where things aren't so cut and dry."

Nathan only stared at the man, an eyebrow still raised as he slowly turned his head and lay it back on the pillow. Feeling the cold fabric wrap around his face. After a few minutes, the man in the uniform looked at his watch, and sat up, climbing off the bed and shutting the biotic field off. He started walking off to the exit, passing by Nathan's cot.

"See you 'round," he waved goodbye, a small smile on his face.

"Uh… Bye," the Courier awkwardly exchanged, trying to wave his hand before a sharp pain brought it down.

After stifling that sensation, he looks up and sees the man is gone. Gone to do whatever he was going to. Curious, but the Courier was too tired and sore to care about it.

"Nathan?" his head snaps to attention, looking to see Dr. Ziegler hovering over him, a thin eyebrow raised. "Is everything all right?"

"Other than my ribs, everything's fine," the Waster dryly admitted, a small smirk forming on his face as he huffs in entertainment. "Especially now, with you here, Doc."

Angela's worried expression slowly morphed into a slight smile, somewhat relieved to see his honesty still intact. However, in the back of her mind, she couldn't but help feel there was something off. He had just returned from a mission, dazed, and wounded, and she couldn't just draw conclusions. The Doctor had to approach things one problem at a time.

"Well, if you're sure about that," Dr. Ziegler said, producing some medical supplies and a fresh pair of gloves. "Let's patch you up, shall we?"


	33. A Change of Pace

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe

2076

Nathan's room was typically quiet, the usual sounds being the shuffling of his feet, stuff moving around the space, and the occasional expression of frustration in the form of colorful vocabulary. This time not being an exception, as he sat in at his desk with the gentle hum of its systems and the holograms. The glowing pages displayed a manual – detailed instructions on how to fieldstrip a certain type of handgun accompanied by colored images and diagrams. Useful, as the instructions were in German. However, he probably wouldn't have needed to look up the instructions as he found the weapon was stupidly easy to disassemble, literally separating into five distinguished, finely crafted parts. All he had to do left was clean and that wouldn't be hard. Probably should've expected as much since the words "SIG Sauer" were etched into the pistol's grip.

He fervently wiped a small piece of cloth, wet with oil, over the underside of the handgun's slide. The white cloth getting darker and dirtier as the residue was wiped off. The smell of sulfur slightly wafting through the air. It was a well-designed machine, but it felt strange that it wasn't his M1911 that he was polishing to a finish. Even stranger that he now knew the Swiss arms manufacturer existed across dimensions, but he didn't want to trouble himself with that thought, again. Just focus on cleaning, something he's done and enjoyed a million times before.

With one last wipe of oil across the slide, he grabbed a brush with metal bristles from a wooden box and began brushing off any further residue and powder from the piece. Finishing, he set the clean part of the handgun back on the desk, on top of a random newspaper he found. Now before him was the slide, barrel, recoil spring, trigger group, and frame all cleaned and oiled – the matte black finish shining in the light. After admiring his hard work, he started reassembling the handgun, the parts fitting and clicking to each other effortlessly. Polymer conjoining metal. The slide now seated and locked on the frame, he let it slam forward with a flick of his thumb, the resulting sound echoing throughout his room. It won't replace his M1911, but it'll do. On the bright side, it turns out the handgun was chambered to the same ammo, so all the .45 ACP he had won't go to waste. Magazines would be a different story, however…

"Mr. Brin," Athena notified through the speakers, then appearing on his holodesk. "Dr. Ziegler wishes to speak with you."

"About what?" Brin asks, racking the slide on his new pistol as he inspects it.

"About an upcoming mission. She wishes to discuss the details with you and is on her way."

"Is she bringing coffee?"

"She is."

Nathan looked up at the A.I., not expecting that answer, before heaving a long sigh as he set the pistol down and got up from his chair, then stretching and yawning. Not long after that, someone knocked on his door.

Walking to it, he taps his hand on the panel and the door slides open, revealing Dr. Ziegler standing there in her doctor's coat and two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. She looks up with a generous smile.

" _Guete Morge_ _!_ " the Swiss woman greeted.

"Mornin'," the Californian returned, taking a coffee cup in hand. "Here to talk?"

"I am. May I come in?"

Upon her request, Nathan invited her inside with a wave of his hand, Angela walking in and looking around his quarters for the second time. It started to look like a properly lived in residence, the Wastelander's possessions scattered around but neatly and in an organized fashion. Everything was where it was and where it should; The weapons, his armor, and other random bits of his inventory stationed at the appropriate shelves and drawers. Not what one would usually expect of someone who says they're from an irradiated wasteland.

"Your room looks pretty nice," Angela commented, taking a sip from her mug. "How's your arm?"

"Fine, thanks to you," Nathan answered, looking at his right arm as he sat back down. "So, Dr. Ziegler, how can I help you?"

"Well, as Athena probably told you, I'm planning to head off on a mission, soon," she explained, the Doctor getting more comfortable by sitting down on Nathan's bed.

"Where's the ape sending you this time?" he asked somewhat accusingly, leaning back into his chair as he brings the coffee cup up to his lips.

"Actually, I was the one who requested this mission with Winston's approval."

Nathan stopped drinking and looked at the blonde, his eyes now glimmering with interest as to what that meant.

"Really?" Brin questioned.

"Yes," Dr. Ziegler answered, before elaborating. "I actually requested that I, along with a few others, be sent on a relief mission to a crisis zone in the Middle-East. Specifically, at a refugee camp I was working in before I was recalled to Overwatch."

"And provide medical aid, I presume?"

"Correct."

Nathan perked an eyebrow, intrigued that – for once – he might be sent on a mission to  _not_ provide supporting gunfire. It sounded easier than what he's been doing for the past few months. Help a few injured people, get compensated for it, then leave. At least, that's what it sounded like, at first.

"Hold on," he stopped, making sure to hold his breath before agreeing to anything. "If this is a relief mission and we're being sent to help people, why are you telling  _me_  all of this? I'm not exactly… great with people. I'm more suited for combat roles, honestly."

"I know," the Field Medic replied, before taking in a deep sigh. "However, as much as I want to help the people stuck in their terrible circumstances, I must acknowledge that the areas we will be sent to aren't safe, and may require some security in the form of personnel. It is, unfortunately, near a war zone. So, we can't expect things to go smoothly, even if we're not there to fight anyone."

"So, I'm being a bodyguard, again?"

"Essentially. However, confrontation would and should be a last resort."

"Okay, but are you posing this question to anyone else?"

"I've thought about it, but the others aren't what I really need for this operation. Reinhardt, as caring and sweet as he is, might be excessive seeing that giant of a man walking around even without his armor. McCree's a wanted man and we must be deployed as 'under the books' as we possibly can. The camp is international not U.N., but bringing him along could only raise further suspicions; The same could basically be said for the others. Except you, however. So, what do you think?"

After Dr. Ziegler said that, she put up a sheepish smile, trying to make it seem like it wasn't still risky despite being literally told it was next to a war zone. However, it didn't sound like the riskiest mission he would be sent on and would be simple if things did go smoothly; Just walk around and make sure no one tries anything on the Doctor. As Nathan looked at Angela and contemplated what he should do as those blue eyes observed him, the Courier only reminded of how indebted he is to the blonde Doctor. He hasn't figured out the course of action to take to repay her, but this felt like a start.

"I'm going to need a few more details, but sure, I'll come along," Brin accepted, silently wincing in his mind.

"Really?" Dr. Ziegler responded, genuinely surprised by how easy that was before smiling in appreciation. "That's great!"

However, that smile awkwardly morphed into a sheepish grin as she looked away, looking at the ground and looking worried. Nathan noticed.

"Is there something else you wanted to say, Dr. Ziegler?" he asked, somewhat concerned.

"Yes, I almost forgot to mention," she explained, sitting upright as she cleared her throat. "You may not like this, but I would like to request that you leave your 'Ranger armor' at the base."

"… Oh."

"I'm afraid that the… ' _Aesthetic'_  of your armor would be too intimidating and would make the civilians very nervous. I'm sorry because I know how connected you are to that armor and how much you rely on it. Much like any other piece of your equipment. If you want to opt out of the mission because of this, I understand, and I'll try to find someone else to undertake it-!"

"Doctor!"

The Swiss Doctor looked up and saw Nathan looking at her with an understanding expression, holding up an open palm to her. He then took a sip of his coffee before continuing.

"It's fine," the Waster reassured. "I can make do. I might be able to find something in storage. I'll figure it out, don't worry. When's the mission?"

"Within a couple of days," the Field Medic answered, now breathing a bit easy. "Thank you for this, Nathan. I really appreciate you agreeing to this."

"Thank me when the mission's done, Dr. Ziegler."

She nodded, then getting up to make her way to his door. However, she looked back and noticed something on the man's desk glimmer brightly in the computer's light.

"That's new," the Swiss woman observed, looking at the black pistol on his desk. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, this?" Nathan asked, picking up the handgun and holding it up to the light. "Snatched it in Numbani. Lost my M1911 there so I had to find a replacement. Did some research and learned it's a 'SIG P320'. Not a bad pistol. You probably know about SIG, don't you?"

" _Schweizerische Industrie Gesellschaft_?" Angela questioned, switching to her native language. "Of course, I'm Swiss."

The Californian snapped his eyes to her, surprised at the sudden outburst of the "alien" language before just chuckling lightly in amusement. Angela joined him and the two shared the silliness for a couple of seconds before it died down. Nathan set the gun down and rotated on his chair to face the Swiss woman.

"Never really took you for a gun person," the Wasteland Veteran admitted, looking up at her.

"Well, if there's one thing I know; It's that that weapon is quality and should serve you well," the Swiss Doctor stated. " _Auf Wiedersehen,_  Brin."

"Uh…  _off-veder-sen_ , Doctor," he returned the saying, butchering the German phrase but she appreciated the attempt, nonetheless. "Thanks for the coffee."

With a smile and a nod, she left, Nathan alone once again in his room. The Courier then looked back at the Swiss Handgun and picked it up. He fiddled with the firearm a bit more, familiarizing with every notch, lever, and button he felt. Pulling back on the slide, feeling the grip's grooves dig into his calloused palm. Locking into place, he reached over and grabbed one of the handgun's magazines, full of .45 ACP. He slid the box magazine into the grip and looked at the breach to see the rounds sitting there. Flicking his thumb and watching it chamber a round with a sharp noise.

* * *

30 miles West of the Iraq-Iran Border, Nathan was being flown in a helicopter, sitting on a bench in the cabin. Looking out one of the circular windows on the side. He watched as stretch after stretch of desert passed by them, barely any life aside from the occasional watering hole and minute village. It was a strange thought thinking how a city like Oasis could thrive in a country whose landscape was as arid and dry as this, but he of all people should not question that.

Then, buildings started coming into view, not long until he could see they were now flying over a sea of structures and not sand. The city not nearly as tall or lavish as the others, but it was smoking all the same. Many of the buildings weren't even whole, just piles of rubble spilling out onto empty streets. The Wastelander needn't wonder how it came to this.

Nathan stopped sightseeing out of the window and looked down at himself, seeing All-American resting between his knees. Not draped in a cuirass and a coat, the Courier wore a metal chest piece over his torso, that had glowing highlights for some reason. It was different than most vests he was used to and recalls McCree wearing a similar piece of armor. Whether it'll protect him remains to be seen. Over that, he had a pouch for magazines and equipment, and on his waist, was a belt that held the holster for his sidearm as well as extra ammo. He wore a regular white t-shirt under the armor, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and wore a pair of beige cargo pants with his boots for the desert setting. However, for headwear, he – unfortunately – couldn't find anything that wasn't in a tacky shade of blue. So, he just opted for some old baseball cap and a pair of aviators he had.

There was talk within the cabin across from him, looking up to see Dr. Ziegler discussing something with Aida, who sat next to her. The Doctor was outfitted in her Valkyrie, wearing a doctor's coat over it, while Aida wore a coat over ordinary clothes. Nathan just watched them as they had their conversation, unable to figure out the Arabic they spoke to each other. If he could guess, however, from Aida's slight stuttering and shallow breathing to Angela's gentle and soothing tone, the assistant was probably worried about the deployment. Her very first deployment.

"We're arriving at the camp now!" the helicopter's intercom grabbed everyone's attention. "Bringing her to land."

The occupants felt the aircraft speed shift, and they looked outside to see themselves slowly hover to the ground. As they felt cabin shake for a final time, everyone got up and readied themselves as the helicopter's ramp lowered and let the light and dust flood in. Nathan rotated the cap's brim over his eyes as he picked up his pack, slinging it over his shoulder. Dr. Ziegler took point, standing at the front with Aida to her side.

"Remember what I told you, okay?" the older woman said, placing a reassuring hand on Aida.

Aida looked up at her and nodded, before looking forward and watching the ramp descend to the ground. When it stopped, the two walked out and into the light, Nathan close behind. Almost blinded at first, his eyes slowly adjust, and looks out to see a field of tents before them, many of them dirty and stricken with sand. People - civilians and aid workers - milled about camp. There was a metal perimeter formed around the entire encampment, separating it from the rest of the ruined city. Some of the walls even had armed men walking on catwalks and keeping watch. Some of them looked like they belong to a local security force, but others looked like they were a long way gone from home. Volunteers, he presumes. Must've been stuck here long, if the dirt on their faces was an indication.

Then, he spots one of the aid workers, a brunette woman in a green medical robe and cap, approaching Dr. Ziegler. Upon closer inspection, he could see bags under her eyes, complemented by faint red stains on her green gown. Despite that, she had an ear to ear grin as she got close to Angela and hugged her closely, the recipient hugging back as tightly as they could.

"Oh, Angela!" the woman exclaimed, burying her head in her shoulder. "Thank you so much for coming!"

"I came as soon as I could, Gloria," she responded calmly, letting go to look at her face. "Are you okay? You look like you haven't slept in weeks!"

"I'm fine, Doctor. It's just that things have been really picking up since you've left."

"Please, tell me more as we get inside. Oh, and I'd like you to meet some of my colleagues."

Angela stepped aside, gesturing for Aida to come forward. "This is Aida, a bright young girl. She was a student at Oasis' University before becoming my assistant. You'll find that she is very capable."

"Pleasure to meet you," the student greeted. "I'm sorry to hear about your situation. Sounds very rough."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself with that," the nurse assured, before looking at Nathan. "And who's this?"

"Name's James," he lied, nodding to her. "Just here to make sure these two stay safe."

"I see. Well, let me show all of you what we're dealing with. Please, come with me."

Gloria began walking into the camp, Angela and Aida following her. Nathan was about to, as well, until he heard feet shuffling behind him and looked back to see the other Overwatch workers they brought along unloading crates and supplies off the helicopter. Two of them passed by him with a sizable shipment, and he saw one of the men was the worker from the infirmary the day before. The worker noticed him too and gave a wave with his free hand.

As the nurse led them further within the camp, the group saw more evidence of the apparent struggles they've been dealing with. There were so many refugees; young, old, male, female. People with bandages and gauze wrapped around their bodies, sometimes wrapped around stumps where their limbs should be. There were a lot of mothers, keeping their children close. There were a lot of kids just wandering around without any guardians in sight. Some in groups, some by their lonesome. They all had grim looks on their dirty, tired faces. Seen too much. Crumbling buildings not too far away, still smoldering with smoke. The Courier was all too familiar with such sights. He just never expected to find such a thing here.

"Where did all these people come from?" he questioned, looking around with an almost morose interest.

"Most of them are from here," Angela answered glumly, witnessing the reality around them. "Many are, however, from neighboring cities, towns, villages. The conflict displaced so many civilians within the region."

"What caused it?"

"I don't know, to be truthful about it. The belligerents will spout anything if it makes them sound like they're justified. There's too many to keep track of, for the sake of everyone's sanity. Water is my most likely guess."

"Resource war, huh? Hmph."

Angela peered over her shoulder to look at Nathan, seeing him still looking around in those aviators, a slight frown on his face. She thought about what he said, looking forward. However, she saw Aida walking alongside her, unable to stop gawking at what was around her.

"Are you all right, Aida?" the Field Medic asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes, it's just…" Aida said, making eye contact for a split-second before looking at the ground. "I just have family that lives in a city like this. Nothing happened yet but seeing this… It makes me worried."

Angela looked at her with pity and wrapped an arm around her, hugging the assistant close.

"Don't trouble yourself with that," Dr. Ziegler calmed, with a soothing voice. "Your family will be fine. I'm sure of it."

"Thank you, Angela."

Nathan watched the Doctor comfort Aida until he noticed the tents they were walking along seemed busier, more active than the ones near the landing pad. The busiest ones had a red cross plastered over their sides, but there were some canopies that showed personnel tending to some refugees. Long lines forming to a lot of them. However, there was one tent that didn't have a line or anyone standing in front of it. Curious, Nathan stopped and glanced at the others to see if they were looking before bringing his hand up to shove the flap away. Peering inside, it takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he sees two rows of cots aligned on either side of the tent. He sees people lined up on these cots, all of them injured or wounded in some way. Gauze wrapped around their bodies like mummies, IV bags with clear liquids being drained into them, and blood stains everywhere. They all were either unconscious and or on the brink of passing out. It was just what the Waster expected, letting the flap fall back down and quietly slipping away.

When the group finally reached the main organizational tent, they gathered around a desk with Gloria, Angela, and Aida taking seats. Nathan still stood up, pacing around the tent's interior and looking at all the desks and whiteboards, reading off what was written on them. They looked like charts, setting up schedules for all the staff and volunteers to specific roles. The hours were long.

"So, Gloria, what has been happening in the camp since my absence?" Angela asks.

"For starters, we've been getting more refugees than we're able to effectively care for," Gloria admitted, rubbing her tired head. "We're understaffed, and are close to having a shortage of supplies."

"How many civilians are still out there?"

"There's no telling, but we already have so many people here that we can't spare any search parties. This refugee camp is basically a city, now."

"I see. That's disconcerting."

Angela's gaze drifted down to look at her folded hands on the table, a dampened demeanor on her face. Nathan craned his head to check on her and ask if she was okay until Angela spoke up, again.

"Well, we can't be everywhere at once," the Doctor admitted with a heavy sigh. "One step at a time. Where do you need us?"

After further debriefing, it wasn't long until they were sent to another nearby tent and got to work. The shelter was spacious, had rows of cots aligned throughout the room but had a section cornered off to house the medical supplies and equipment as well as a small desk. The front tent wall was rolled up, opening the interior for all to see. Nathan decided to sit in the back at the desk when their shift started, silently watching as the tent was soon flooded with patients.

Many were treated in mere minutes, others took up to an hour of tending. The Waster watched Dr. Ziegler work, expertly and with little hesitation to those who needed it the most. The Field Medic was gentle with her patients, calmly talking to them or their relatives in their native tongue. Helping them to understand their situations. Aida, while not treating ailments herself, still received instruction from her mentor and did them with little hesitation. Mainly passing out medicine and water to patients, handing the Doctor the supplies and tools she would need, or speaking to the ones still waiting in line. Angela even took some opportunities to teach Aida, letting her look and observe what she does. It was… intriguing to watch. However, even with an assistant and some staff, the line wasn't getting any shorter. Patients coming, patients leaving, patients becoming bed-ridden, and this went on for hours. Nathan sitting there in the dark and watching everything move along. It didn't run smoothly forever.

A few hours in, Angela was tending to a child – a little girl – an injury running along her leg. As she did this, Aida was at the line, talking to some of the waiting children. Nathan just sat at the desk and watched them. He felt a bit bored, but he'd rather leave the job to the professionals. She was doing fine with the kids and he didn't want to mess that up. He never did well with kids, especially ones running from a war zone. However, the bodyguard's ears perked as he heard yelling and suddenly a group of grown men approached the tent, cutting in front of the line, and held their palms out to the Doctor as if expecting handouts. It startled Angela and she rocketed up, holding the little girl close to her. Nathan rocketed up from the desk and practically stomped over to them, but the imposing Waster stopped as Angela held an open palm to him. Regarding him for a moment, she turned back to the crowd and began yelling at them in Arabic, throwing her arm in the air as if to cast them away. Making enough noise to stop some onlookers walking outside the tent. After she berated them, the group of men disbursed, disgruntled and shaking their heads. She lowered herself and planted the young girl on the cot again, trying to calm down the frightened child. Nathan then approached her, keeping an eye on the crowd.

"You alright?" he asks, looking down at her.

"I'm fine," the woman answered, trying to soothe the girl.

"What was that all about?"

"They all said they couldn't sleep. Wanted something to alleviate that. I told them they would get nothing for cutting in front of everyone else."

Then, he heard more yelling and looked to see Aida still at the line, dealing with another group of men, trying to wrestle something from their hands. His hand went to his sidearm but paused as he looked at the crowd, in the way of his line of fire. He then let go of the grip and marched over to them, closing the distance quickly with his wide gait. As the tall Waster got to Aida, he grabbed the arm of the man she was struggling with and bumped his shoulder into him, knocking the man to the ground. The group around him backed away and the man was scrambling away with an angry and surprised look on his face. Aida backs away surprised, hands over her chest.

"Fuck outta here!" the bodyguard commanded, throwing his arm in the air. He began shoving some of the other men away, putting distance between them and the line. "Get the fuck out of here! Go!"

Like the earlier group, they began to disperse in random directions, leaving the tent and the staff alone. Nathan stood there, staring daggers at them and making sure they didn't get close. After a few moments, he backpedaled and walked back to Aida, who was still talking to the kids.

"Thanks," she expressed, still a bit shaken.

"What were they doing?" he questioned, occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if there were more of them.

"They were stealing candy. From the kids, I mean."

"Christ…" Nathan cursed, brushing his hand through his hair.

The sun had gone halfway across the sky and the line only seemed to have gotten bigger. As if a bunch more refugees had flooded the place since they landed, or had gotten out of their tents to see the charitable Dr. Ziegler to cure their ailments. Earlier, he looked at the supplies they had in the tent and it didn't look like it was going to be enough for everyone. That staff of hers could only fix so much.

Suddenly, he heard yelling but it was in English, accompanied by the sound of a gunshot that made everyone jump and panic. Nathan pulled out his sidearm and flipped the safety off, hearing the shot originate from a nearby tent. Then, a man burst through the entrance, carrying a white box. Another man came out, one of the security personnel, chasing the man while screaming.

"Stop! Thief!" he yelled in English, waving his arm as he chased the man. "Someone stop him!"

Nathan leveled his sight at the man, but couldn't get a clear shot as there were civilians in the way, screaming and running around. The other security personnel were chasing the man, but they were too late as the thief climbed over one of the barriers and jumped off. Nathan ran up to the barrier, watching as the man sprinted down the road before turning a corner and was now out of sight. The security guard that was yelling ran up beside him and shouted in frustration.

"What did he steal?" Nathan questioned, holstering his sidearm.

"Some medical supplies," he answered, cursing. "Fucking bandits! This is the third time this month this has happened."

"And nothing's been done about it?"

"What can we do? We're supposed to be here guarding this place and making sure everyone's safe. Can't spare any men to go hunt for the bastards. If I could hire a mercenary, though, I gladly would."

The security guard sighed and trudged away, head hanging low. Nathan watched him walk away before staring out at the street again, seeing rubble and litter spread across the road. However, he felt something wet as he laid his hand on the barrier and looked to see it was blood on his hand. The thief's blood. Looking back up, he notices other blots of blood that dotted the way. He hummed in thought as he looks out into the ruined street, flanked on either side by dilapidated buildings. The Courier wiped the blood over his trousers as he made his way back to the tent. As he arrived, Angela saw him and directed for a staff member to fill in for her, before standing up and going over to her bodyguard.

"Nathan, has the situation been contained?" Angela asked, looking up at him.

"Bastard's gone, but he stole some medical supplies in the process," Nathan answered, going back to the desk, and rearranging some things.

"That's a shame… Thank you for telling me."

Dr. Zielger turned away, about to go back to her patient until she felt a hand gently grab her arm. She looked back to see the tall Waster looking down at her with a slight face of pity.

"Do you need some help, at least?" he asked, glancing at the line. "It looks like you need it."

"I…" Angela hesitated, looking down at her feet as she thought about it. Her job wasn't getting any easier, and even with the staff they had they there were still so many others to be cared for. It looked like she was going to be there well after midnight. Nathan was offering, so why not?

"Yes, I would like some help, please. Thank you," she admitted, looking up at him and pointing to the corner. "You can start by unloading some of the supplies and handing them out."

"Sure thing, Doctor," Nathan nodded, going to the corner and crouching down to the supply crate.

"Oh, and another question: Do you have any medical training?"

Nathan stopped, looked over his shoulder to Angela, awaiting an answer.

"… Some, actually," the Waster admitted, harkening back to some memories. "This wouldn't be the first infirmary I've worked in."

"That's good," the Doctor stated, smiling to some good news. "We could really use what you know. Come back with the supplies and a fresh pair of gloves so we can get you started."

"Sure thing."

He smiled as he addressed Angela, but when she went back to her patient, that smile faded as he turned back to the supplies. He opened a crate full of medical supplies and started grabbing the contents and laid them all out on the desk. However, after emptying it, he went back into the corner to his pack and unzipped it. In it, the metal helmet of his Ranger Armor shined in the low light, along with the rest of his uniform. Nathan looked over his shoulder to see if Dr. Ziegler was looking, but she wasn't. The Courier looked back at his armor again before closing it up. Standing up, he went to the Doctor with the supplies and got to work right away.

* * *

Night time had finally fallen, campfires and lanterns across the site being lit while much of the activity died down. Despite their fears, Angela and her assistants were able to tend to most of the patients, only a few individuals left with mendable ailments. Angela was hunched over a cot, sitting on a chair as she hooked up her Caduceus Staff to hang over her sleeping patient and link the healing stream. The blonde let out an exhausted yawn, her eyes half-closed, leaning against her arm as it was propped up against her thigh. Then, something crossed her tired vision and sat up to see it was a metal mug with a steaming, brown drink. She took it in her hands and gave it a whiff, letting out a moan of delight from the pleasant scent of the brew before taking a sip.

"Thank you, Nathan," the Doctor expressed gratitude, looking up at him. "I really needed this."

"No problem, Doctor," the man responded. "Need anything else done?"

"No, I'm fine. I think we all are. I'm glad we could treat all those refugees. Get some rest, you clearly earned it."

"If there's anyone here that deserves some shut-eye it's you. You've been nodding off there a couple of times. Are you sure you don't need anything else?"

"I told you, I'm fine. Thank you for worrying. Now please, get some rest. I'll take care of things over here."

Nathan frowned slightly, unconvinced but who was he to challenge one of the top doctors in the world? With a nod, he left her to her task and went to the desk. He passed by Aida, who had her head resting on her arms over the counter, unaware of the tall man passing by. He crouched down and grabbed his pack, looking back to see Angela still hunched over her patient, the golden tether from her Staff illuminating her face and the space around her. Disheveled blonde locks loosely hanging across her forehead, her blue eyes seeming dull from the fatigue, and the occasional sip of the coffee to keep her mind straight. Nathan stared at her for several moments, noting how committed she was to help her patients, before getting up and bringing his pack outside. Making sure to go somewhere where he'll be unseen.

* * *

The Courier landed with a heavy thud onto the broken road, his boots scraping along the concrete and kicking up dust as he snuck away from the refugee camp to go into the ruined city. The night complimented the dark duster that covered his riot armor, easily slipping away from the view of the camp's security, and soon slipping behind a building to be completely out of sight. The Wastelander kept one eye trained on the ground and the other trained before him to beware of any threats that could be lurking throughout this city. He had his hands wrapped around All-American, the carbine locked and loaded, only a flip of the safety away from being hot. He was unsure, at first, if there could be a viable trail of blood for him to track the thief with, but his worries were subsided as he kept seeing sizable spurts of crimson spilled across the dusty road. The blood wet enough for it to rub off on his fingers when he touches it.

However, even when he hunkered low to the ground, his attention occasionally got distracted by the buildings surrounding him. Individually, they were rather bland and didn't have anything to make them stand out in a certain way, either by design or molded that way by war. The crumbling buildings, roads busted and cracked, sand and trash scattered everywhere with little care, and only the eerie rush of the wind to accompany the Wander as he ran through the streets alone. He would've compared the environment to  _Eichenwalde_  if it wasn't for the fact the old German village still had signs of life in the form of lush vegetation and feathery-fauna. Here? It didn't look much better than the Boneyard.

Following the trail of blood, the memory of bounty hunting crept in the back of his mind like a bug. The only thing missing being a bounty notice in his pocket calling for the thief's head and the promise of caps at the end of it. Getting back those medical supplies would suffice, and he doubts they would appreciate having the thief's head as proof. He looked around the desolate city block, his breaths warming up the inside of his mask. Any windows that weren't shattered or close to breaking displayed empty and dark canvasses, bleak of activity. The streets were almost pitch-black, impassable if it wasn't for the low-light vision, and even then, he had to be careful crossing into unknown territory. He strayed a good distance away from the refugee camp.

However, the pitch of the wind changed, and he looked to the left of the street to see two bright lights approaching from the distance. Quickly, Nathan sprinted to a nearby alleyway and hid in the shadows. He propped his muzzle up as the source of the lights, a pickup truck with an unseen number of occupants, sped by down the road. When it passed, the coated man stayed in the alleyway and waited for the sand to settle, before slowing inching his way back out onto the street. There was suddenly a noise behind him and he spun around, safety off. Then, his brow rises, and his stance loosens up as it was a small, furry animal standing wide-eyed at him. Stood on four legs, pointed ears, and a short-pointed snout. He hasn't seen many of these things in California, but he'd reckoned they weren't on the brink of extinction here. With a purr, the cat turned and ran away from the human, quickly disappearing into the alley. The Waster huffed and walked back onto the road, quickly getting back on the blood trail. It soon led him in the same direction that truck went to.

After minutes of traversing abandoned streets, the trail had finally led him to an empty lot next to a large warehouse that didn't have windows, but the steel sheet roof had openings that let faint light spill outwards, showing something was inside. Wary, Nathan crouched low to the ground and snuck over to the warehouse, his legs somewhat burning from all the activity, but he ignored it along the way. He reached the wall, silently crossing it to see if there was another entrance or any opening he could use. He eventually comes across what appeared to be construction scaffoldings that led up to the roof. With the carbine trained on the roof, he climbed up the supports, his boots lightly tapping against the metal. Finally, he reached the roof and climbed in through an opening to find himself on the warehouse's second level, overlooking the ground floor. It wasn't hard finding the source of the light: a barrel with fire and two men huddled around it.

Slowly, with his eyes fixed on them, the Courier slowly moved along the metal beam and made his way to the other side of the warehouse to get closer to the men. Getting a lay of the land, he notices something covered in a tarp next to them, possibly the supplies they've stolen. His assumption is only bolstered as he notices one of the men has gauze wrapped around his arm. They were talking, indiscernible to the Californian, of course. Then, close enough to where he was almost hovering over them, he shouldered his rifle and peered through the scope at both his targets. However, through the scope, he could see they had guns, rifles resting against the tarp. That wouldn't be a problem, as he could've easily popped off two shots and be done with it, but that changed when the warehouse gate started opening. As it soon as it was wide enough, the truck Nathan saw earlier drove in and parked itself, a few armed men filing out. Some of them were unpacking random boxes and crates from the flatbed and place them near the tarp, some went to the burn barrel and started conversing with the others. Nathan's eyes darted to all of them, planning and calculating as he let out a low growl. Counting, he saw eight. Looking down at the holster on his hip, he recounted the number of rounds his pistol's magazine held - Ten.

Peering back up at the group of bandits, the Courier slung All-American onto his back and promptly pulled his new .45 from the holster. He looked down at the handgun, wrapping his hands around the grip and getting a feel for its weight. Then, he brings up his left hand to the side of his helmet, his red eyes blinking off. After the electronics whirred to silence, he wrapped the hand around the slide and chambered a round.

The group of bandits immediately fell silent as the sound of something metallic echoed throughout the largely empty warehouse, most of them taking up arms and looking around to try to decipher the source of that noise. They stayed close to the burn barrel, the muzzles of their guns sweeping all over the area, mainly pointing at the dark corners of the warehouse. Some of them yelled in their language, questioning who was hiding in the shadows or prompting any intruder to come out and show themselves. Obviously, no one answered. However, after a few moments of silence, the warehouse suddenly lit up as a gunshot rang and one of the men collapsed to the floor as blood erupted from his head.

They all started firing wildly, the automatic fire of their weapons lighting up the entire room and their rounds peppering the walls, pillars, ceilings, and floor. They didn't know what they were shooting at, just where they believed the shot came from – which was apparently five different directions. Never letting go of the triggers, they yelled as they felt the rifles kick against their shoulders, casings scattered everywhere. Hundreds of rounds being used up in seconds. Finally, the gunfire died down, their ears ringing and sweat dripping. Looking around the dimly lit warehouse, the only thing they see is the corpse not of their doing.

Two gunshots ring out from behind, followed by two of their own collapsing like ragdolls. The others tried to fire back but their rifles only clicked, signaling they were out as they spent all the rounds in them like amateurs. Suddenly, a large man burst from the shadows and swiped at one of the bandits, knocking the rifle away and placing the muzzle of his pistol against his stomach before squeezing the trigger twice. As he recoiled back, clutching his bleeding belly, the armored man fired and downed two others. He heard a cry to his left and saw a bandit ready to swing his rifle at him. He blocked it with the gauntlet and knocked the weapon away, bringing his pistol up. The man gagged as he felt his throat collapse on itself, clutching it as he fell to the floor and choked on his own blood. The Courier stood over him with the pistol and executed the choking man, ending the sound of his rattles. He then heard a click and looked to see the last bandit standing, the one with the gauze around his hand, with a rifle in his hands. The thief's right hand was inches away from the charging handle, staring at the man with the pistol still hanging over his dead friend. They stared at each other, terrified eyes staring at the dirty lenses. The helmet not even looking slightly concerned. Standing tall.

"Try me."

The man scrambled to wrap his hand around the charging hand but yelped as something struck his hand and made him drop the rifle. Clutching his hands and falling to the floor, the thief looks down to see his hand broken and bleeding. He then hears heavy footfalls approaching and looks up to see the black figure looming over him, blocking out the fire from the barrel. The thief holds up his hands, hyperventilating as fear strikes his eyes. Then, a hand shoots out and grabs him by the shirt, the man screaming in fear before the polymer grip of the SIG connected with the side of his head and knocked him unconscious. The Courier unceremoniously letting him fall to the floor. He brings the pistol to the light of the flame and ejects the magazine to see that it was empty. He then racks the slide and the last .45 caliber round pops out, twirling in the air before being snatched.

"Nine rounds, eight targets?" he observes, putting the magazine and the loose round in a pocket. "…Dammit."

Nathan holsters the P320, having thoroughly tested it, and walked over to the tarp. Throwing it off, he finds multiple crates and boxes stacked over one another. It wasn't exclusively medical supplies, as there were rations, equipment, and even ammunition crates piled neatly and strapped to a floating flat cart. Too much for just a group of bandits to subsist on. These guys must've been making a killing from this merchandise until the Courier killed most of them. Walking around, he looked on the cart's control panel and powered it on, the device and its load hovering into the air with ease. He looked at the supplies, now having something to bring back to the camp. He didn't know how much it would help, but something is better than nothing. However, he heard slight groaning and looked back to see the thief stirring. Nathan looked down, picking up some spare straps and rope, before walking over to the thief.

* * *

A guard posted at the refugee camp sat with his back against the barrier, dozing off as his rifle was nuzzled between him and his arm. However, before he was about to go to dreamland, he felt something hit him in the back of the head, then scrambling to his feet with the rifle in hand. Activating a light on his rifle, it swept across the street until something glistened. He stopped on it, before raising his head in the air in surprise.

It was a cart of what seemed to be supplies, just lying in the middle of the street. Even stranger was the person in front of those supplies, hogtied and unconscious. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the man as being the thief from earlier, but he was wondering what was he and the stolen goods were doing there in the middle of the street. He didn't like it, but it was tempting to walk out there and grab those supplies, especially the ones they needed.

"Base Security, this is the North Entrance," the man spoke into a radio. "Be advised, I've spotted a cart full of supplies in the middle of the street in front of me, and the unconscious body of the thief from earlier today in front of that, all tied up. Over."

"Uh, North Entrance this is Base Security, can you confirm what you just said?" a voice spoke over the radio, sounding befuddled. "A 'cart full of supplies'? Over."

"I'm telling you, man, that's what I see. I'm staring directly at it. A cart full of supplies, thirty meters from the entrance. Over."

"Roger that, sending a team to investigate. Stay put and keep your head on a swivel. Over"

"Wilco."

Releasing his hand from the comms, he trained his rifle on the suspicious cart. However, his gaze drifted down and he saw the thing that had hit him and saw it was a small rock but it had something wrapped around it – paper. Intrigued but still cautious, he crouched down and picked the rock up. Releasing the piece of paper from it, he folded it open to see what was on it. To his surprise, it was a message in English.

"Caught the thief and got your supplies back. You're welcome."

That only made him more confused.

Meanwhile, not so far away, the Courier watched with glowing red eyes as a group of men got out of the entrance and slowly approached the cart. Seeing that, he slipped into cover and snuck back into the camp.

* * *

Nathan's pack landed on the tent floor with a thump, the tall man exhaling deeply as he wiped sweat away from his forehead. He didn't feel tired, but that little stunt outside the camp left him… Satisfied, for now. It felt good, stretching his legs and breaking in his new sidearm. But now, all he wanted was a smoke.

He made his way to the front, eager to fill his lungs with tobacco, but stopped as he noticed something. There was a cot with two patients on it – another little girl and her mother – sleeping together as the latter hugged her daughter close under a blanket. Next to them, Dr. Ziegler was sitting on a chair and was passed out, still staying close to her patients. Her sleeping head hanging to the side, her arms crossed over his chest. The blonde was resting her head on a stuffed animal that looked like the cross between an onion and an octopus, the weight compressing the soft creature and its silly face. Nathan looked down at the sleeping blonde, before turning around and going to a corner of the tent. He came back, and draped Angela with a spare blanket, covering her up to her neck. Standing back, he watched her stir slightly in her sleep as she unconsciously grabbed the blanket and hugged it close to her body. That thing she rested on letting out a low squeaking noise as she moved.

Nathan finally walked out, greeted by all the light of the encampment, and reveled in the relative silence. The chaos from earlier has long died down. He found a sturdy enough box and sat upon it, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his back pocket. Sticking one in his mouth, he lights the end of it before snapping the box closed and gives one long pull on the cig, feeling something warm fill up his lungs. Taking it out and resting it between his fingers, he puffs a large cloud into the air to watch it go up into the night sky. Staring at the innumerable sea of stars through the translucent cloud. Probably one benefit of a city in darkness.

He hears movement to his right and sees a man in an Overwatch jumpsuit come up with a crate and a plant it into the ground with a sigh of relief. Seeing a familiar face. The brown-haired man wipes sweat from his brow and looks at Nathan, smiling and jutting his chin out to greet him. Nathan returns the gesture before going back to his smoke. The man in the jumpsuit then pulls out a pack of cigarettes of his own, grabbing one of the stick from the box with his mouth. He then reaches for his other pocket, but his face contorts into annoyance as he doesn't find what he's looking for, before patting his hand all over his suit. Nathan notices and watches as the man groans in frustrations with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. The worker looks at him, before pointing to his mouth with pleading in his eyes. The Waster looks at the lighter in his hand before flipping it open and striking the flame alive. He brings it over to the man, who leans forward and lets the ember spark his cigarette until Nathan pulls back and shuts it.

"Thank ya' kindly," the worker expresses, letting out a little cloud into the air. "I really needed this."

"Yup," the Waster responded, staring blankly at the sky. "I guess some of us do."

"What's your name? I never caught it back at the infirmary."

"That's because I never said it."

"Well, maybe we can start. Name's Manuel."

The man held an open palm to the Courier, who looked at it before glancing upward to see a smiling face with a lit cigarette. The Waster could never figure out what everyone's deal was in Overwatch. However, it never occurred to him to at least try and get used to it.

"Nathan," he stated, reaching across to grab his hand and shake it.

"Hell of a day we've had, huh, Nathan?" Manuel asked, shaking his hand with vigor before letting go.

"I guess, depending on who you ask. I'm sure Dr. Ziegler would agree."

"Yeah, but it comes with the territory. I think. At least we can smoke out to good feelings, now."

"'Good feelings…?' Eh, not always."

"We got a cool view, though," Manual responded, looking up at the starry sky. "Seen plenty of these back in California."

Nathan looked and addressed the man when he heard that word.

"You're from California?" the New Californian asked.

"Yup, not from L.A., though," the Californian responded with a stern face. "Just wanted to make that clear. Everybody always assumes I'm from there. Kinda annoying given how big the state is. Are you from California?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Cheers to that! Wish we had beer, though."

Manuel shook his head and laughed, taking another drag from the cigarette and reclining further back to stare at the sky. Nathan just sat there and looked at him, before staring up, as well. The two enjoyed the rest of the night puffing clouds of tobacco near a medical tent.


	34. Worth the Pain

30-Miles West of the Iraq-Iran Border, Iraq

2076

There was a field of rubble around them. Most buildings demolished into an indistinguishable pile. The deeper they went into the city - the farther they got from the refugee camp - the more evidence of this war being displayed to the rescuers and aid workers. The streets were rife with litter and dust, dirtying the boots of the people venturing into the abandoned neighborhood. Despite the apparent absence of life, the security personnel guarding the aid workers had to be on guard, as their boots sometimes clanged against piles of ammo casings that joined the litter on the street. Nathan could still smell the gunpowder in the air.

After the camp received tremendous help from Dr. Ziegler and Overwatch, they were finally able to deploy search parties to seek out other civilians and refugees in the war-ridden city. Of course, Dr. Ziegler wanted to spearhead it. And obviously, Nathan followed. Making sure to stick close to her, even if she was currently scouring a large pile of concrete and rebar.

"… No life signs detected," the woman donning the Valkyrie suit stated, patting her dust-covered hands before floating off the big pile with her glowing wings. She muttered to herself, "I conducted the proper calibrations to my halo, didn't I? Why am I not picking up life signs? Something must be wrong."

"Your calibrations are fine, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan reassured her, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. "I'm sure that pile just didn't have anybody in it."

"Even if that were so, we haven't found nearly as many civilians as I would like. There are still many people unaccounted for. I know it."

Nathan narrowed his eyes at how Angela was reacting, thinking she was worrying herself more than needed. He'd never seen her like this and wasn't certain what to think of it. However, before he could respond, a short gunfire burst echoed in the distance and made everyone look up into the sky to pinpoint where it came from. It was far away and not directed towards them, but it didn't make anyone any less wary of their situation – especially the armed escorts.

The Field Medic pushed forward, nonetheless, the aid convoy following her through the streets and flanked on either side by armed security forces. A truck with a canopy displaying a red cross was in the middle of the convoy. They were basically patrolling this neighborhood, trying to spot any sign of life but with the purpose of aiding. They were successful in finding a few civilians, but the Doctor wanted to push on. She was unusually quiet on this patrol, Nathan making occasional glances at her to see if her stern expression had changed at all. The Swiss woman was like that ever since they left camp, and he almost wanted to ask if everything was okay. Nevertheless, he decided to keep his mouth shut and let her have her focus, out of respect.

They crawled along the street, convoy inching along at the snail's pace set by Dr. Ziegler. It let Nathan examine the full extent of the damaged city in the daylight, trying to not draw more comparisons to ruins he's crawled through as it was starting to get tiring.

'You've seen a hundred places like these, Brin,' the Courier tried to placate himself. 'Boulder City, Hopeville, Boneyard. Just stop fucking gawking and watch over the Dr. Ziegler.'

He grumbled as he visibly shook his head and spun to face forward. Focusing on the horizon of the street and trying to hide his scowl behind the aviators and the shadow of the hat's brim.

"Nathan, is everything all right?" Dr. Ziegler asked, noting his demeanor.

"What?" he asked aloud, caught off-guard. "Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine, just a little tired. Why?"

"You seem… Out of it."

Angela looked at him with a genuinely concerned expression, the first time her façade broke on this patrol. Even with those aviators over his face, he couldn't help avoiding her gaze by glancing at the ground. Only after a few seconds did he muster up some courage to look up at her, again.

"I'm fine, Doctor, just worry about…" he stopped himself as he noticed Dr. Ziegler looking past him.

Turning, he sees she is looking at a dim alleyway and sees something dashing through the shadows. As a precaution, Nathan begins to raise his carbine up towards the alley but is halted as he feels Angela's hand go on top of the barrel shroud and push it down. The Waster twists his head to see her giving him a disapproving look.

"There's no need for that!" she stated before her face lightened. "Stay here."

Nathan stands back and watches as Angela walks into the alleyway. He signals the convoy to stop before looking back and sees the Doctor clad in white approaching a dumpster. One of the local security personnel runs up to him.

"Hey, what's the holdup? Where is Dr. Ziegler going?"

"Shh!" the Waster hushed, eyes glued on her.

He continued observing Angela, watching as she slowly approached the dumpster until she stopped and crouched low to the ground. She began very softly and faintly in Arabic, the others barely able to hear what she was saying and unable to see who she was speaking to. Then, a set of small, brown eyes appeared from the dumpster, looking at the "Angel" squatting in front of them. The pupils darted to the front of the alleyway, seeing two armed men standing there, the eyes recoil further behind the dumpster. Seeing that, Angela then got closer and spoke, maintaining that reassuring tone in her voice.

"Do you know what she's saying?" Nathan asked the other security guard.

"I think she's trying to tell the child that we're not going to hurt them," the man replied. "She's referring to me and you."

"Of course."

Going back to the scene, Angela slowly extended one arm, the palm facing down, and gestured to herself as she kept repeating a phrase. Slowly, an arm extended to her and a tiny hand wrapped around the gloved fingers. Smiling, she stood up and slowly guided the child from out behind the dumpster. The child was a boy. He had short, black hair and a shirt a couple of sizes too big that was covered in dirt. His face and skin looked filthy as if he had been scrounging throughout the city for the past few days. He didn't look older than ten.

Without warning, more gunfire rang out and made everyone tense up, again. The boy yelped and hid behind Angela's legs, the woman then crouching to eye level and addressing him softly as she caressed her hand against his cheek. The gunfire kept echoing, the register of multiple weapons reverberating through the air. It sounded far away but lasted much longer. A full-on firefight, it seemed. Then, after a full, agonizing minute it stopped, the security still having their muzzles up and ready. Nathan looked back to see the Doctor continuing to guide the child and walk him out of the alleyway, still trying to comfort him. Seeing how tender and sweet she was being to the kid. They noticed the little boy staring at them with eyes still unsure and fearful. His eyes mainly darting to Nathan. Once they were out into the open, a volunteer approached the two and took the little boy by his hand and began to walk towards the aid truck. Angela watched them go as her bodyguard walked up beside her.

"You handled that well," he complimented.

"Thank you," Dr. Ziegler appreciated but not entirely enthused. "That poor boy, though. I wonder how long he's been on the streets? I could've found him earlier…"

"I think it'd be best for you to not worry about that, for now. You were doing a pretty good job, so far. Keeping at it, I mean."

"Thank you, again, Nathan," she reiterated, before perking an eyebrow up at him and cocking her head to the side with a small smile. "I'm flattered by how generous you've been with the compliments, today. Are you sure everything's okay?"

He just shrugged. "I'm just in a good mood, today… I guess."

"Well, I hope it's-"

"Doctor! Doctor!" she was interrupted by one of the volunteers, running to her with a holopad in hand.

"What is it?" Dr. Ziegler asked, her expression morphing into worry.

"One of the search parties found something at the edge of town, very close to the combat zone. You need to look at this!"

The volunteer brought up the holopad and Angela huddled close to her, their backs to Nathan. He wanted to get a closer look, but another sound of a firefight distracted him. It sounded closer, more than they would be comfortable with. When it died down, the volunteer ran back to the aid truck and the Doctor pulled out her Caduceus Blaster, the energy pistol's parts separating and rings of energy pulsating before shutting. The Courier immediately knew something was wrong.

"We need to move, now!" the First Responder, itching to get moving.

"Hold on, what did you see?" Nathan asked, concerned at how riled she seemed.

She stopped and looked up at him with her blue eyes, but they looked sad, heartbroken even. Angela couldn't even maintain eye contact as she turned her gaze to the ground beneath her feet, her grip tightening around her Caduceus Staff and hugging it close to her chest. Seeing her like this felt almost uncomfortable for Nathan to look at.

"Something…" she choked up a bit, bringing her shoulder up to an eye and rubbing against it. "Something I wouldn't wish upon anyone."

* * *

No longer crawling along at a snail's pace the entire convoy was rushing along the streets. The medical convoy, having dropped off the people they rescued at the camp first, now carried the volunteers and the security as they were driven to whatever the search party spotted. Nathan sat at the back of the truck and Angela sat across from him. The Doctor hasn't said a word during the entire drive, just hugging her Staff close to her body and staring at the floor of the truck. He still had no clue what they were being sent, and he obviously didn't want to press Angela, but it must be serious if the truck they were in was now being escorted by two massive, armored vehicles with turrets on top. He just stared at her, an urge to do something gnawing at his gut. Nathan wanted to reach out and figure out what's bothering her.

But before he could do anything, he felt the truck halt and the guards were the first to leave the truck with their rifles ready to meet any threats. After everything was clear, they instructed the rest of the volunteers to come out. Nathan and Angela were the last ones to hop off, the latter slowly descending using her wings. As they got onto the ground, Nathan followed Angela from behind the truck and went up the street. They were near the edge of the town, but it didn't look different to what they've seen so far. It was just a street that led out into the countryside, where they could see the desert beyond it. However, he noticed the other team that reported the news to them near the end of the road, at the intersection. They were taking cover, some of their guards pointing their weapon in either direction, as if aiming at some unseen threat.

'What are they doing there?' he wondered as he ran up the street. 'I don't see anyone in sight-'

His eyes went wide, sharply inhaling and almost stopping in his tracks as his gaze just drifted to the side and finally saw what they were here for. On the other side of the intersection, there was a wall, practically parallel from where they were, and they were dozens of bodies lined up against it.

The aid workers ran up to the intersection, only to stop themselves from crossing the street. The armed security keeping watch on all flanks. The sound of war had increased the closer they got to this site, practically on the battlefield's doorstep. The day had decided the small skirmishes would devolve into a full-on battle. Without a doubt, very shitty timing.

They got a closer look at the scene. Blood was splattered everywhere along the wall, a crimson mural complimented by small craters that he could assume were bullet holes. Looking like the perpetrators dumped their entire magazines in just one burst. Even at this distance, the Courier could make out the faces of all the dead bodies, their skin starting to turn into a sickly shade of purple and blue, chunks of flesh spread throughout the surrounding space. Their expressions completely void of the life they once had. Their eyes glazed over and blankly staring into whatever direction their pupils or pointing at. The smell of all those corpses rancid, even on the other side, but they didn't look like they were there for long. Bodies haven't decomposed dramatically, and the birds were still pecking away at the meat. And the most damning thing was what they were wearing. No vests, no armor plates, no gear, no helmet, nothing to signify they were military. They were in civilian clothes – Men, Women, and Children. The Courier could only gawk at the massacre. At least, a  _partial_  massacre.

"Oh my God…" Angela hushed out, unable to believe her eyes. "They're always worse to see in person."

"We noticed some movement among the pile of bodies, ma'am," one of the personnel said to her with a frown. "Survivors."

"Yes, I'm detecting life signs," the Field Medic stated, shutting her eyes and bowing her head for a moment. "Some of them are very faint. How can anyone survive this?"

"I don't know, but as soon we try to approach them we end up receiving fire from the East. We don't know where the hell they are but they nearly nicked us."

"What? Why? We're a completely neutral party – a humanitarian effort! They shouldn't be doing this!"

"I one-hundred percent agree, but I have a feeling they don't care. They probably just saw some of us had guns and fired away."

Dr. Ziegler stared at the scene, trying to spot out survivors among the pile of corpses. Finding and getting to them would be easy with the Valkyrie suit, but doing it under fire would be different. The only thing that mattered was getting to the survivors and rescuing them. The First Responder had the means and she felt they didn't have any more time to spare. Not with people still writhing in the pile.

"Okay, here's the plan," she turned to address the security personnel. "I'm going to use my wings to fly over there and fly back with the civilians in my hands. I'm going to be as fast as I can, but I need you and your men to give me covering fire. Focus on shooting, I'll focus on saving."

"Sounds like a plan, ma'am," the man said, getting up to discuss the plan with the others. "I'll round up one of the armored cars to go up and soak up some fire.

"Right, and Nathan, can I count you to…"

Angela stopped midway at her request as she noticed the man only stared blankly into the distance, directly at the bloody wall and the corpses. His expression neutral at best, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He looked like he was caught in a trance.

"Nathan?" Angela asked, again, her tone growing with concern.

The Courier didn't respond to her calls, his name sounding like a blur in his ear as his focus was one-hundred-percent on something else. Not just her voice, but the other sounds on the street and from the nearby battlefield only sounded flat to his ears. The Courier could barely feel a sensation for himself, feeling as if he was floating in place. A disembodied head lost in the air.

'…You couldn't do anything, y'know? Even if you really wanted to. There was nothing you could've done to prevent it.  _All_  of it.

His breath changed, his neck trembling slightly.

'But remember this: It was all your fault. Do you understand? Nathan…? Courier Six is deaf now, huh? Or simply too stupid to figure it out? Get ahold of yourself, Nathan…"

'Nathan?'

'Nathan!'

"NATHAN!"

The Courier's name snapped him out of his trance, feeling the dryness in his eyes until he blinked rapidly and darted them around the street, retrieving his semblance for where he was. He felt out of breath, as he looked to see Dr. Ziegler kneeling next to him at eye-level and staring at him with her blue eyes, newfound concern present on her face. Angela had her hand on his shoulder, Nathan glanced at it.

"Nathan…" let out, her brow furrowing with the concern. "A-Are you-?"

"Let's focus on getting those civilians back, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan stated, grabbing her hand and gently moving it from him.

"Brin! You can't honestly expect me to-!"

Suddenly, the sound of a baby's cry echoed through the street, nearly silencing everyone but the gunfire. Angela turned and looked back at the massacre, hearing the shrill crying of an infant emanating from the pile. Dread not only taking over her eyes but many of the other volunteers, as well. The absolute worst timing, indeed.

"I think you should hurry, Doc," Nathan plainly said, already shouldering his carbine.

Angela regarded him for a moment before looking back at the bodies and listening to that baby cry. An engine started rumbling behind her and she looked to see one of the armed escort vehicles was getting ready to drive into the street and soak up incoming fire as well as return some of its own. The woman with wings looked down at her Staff as she firmly wrapped her hands around it, before handing the long piece of equipment to Nathan, who looked at her questioningly as she did that.

"We'll discuss this later. Just cover me."

Her bodyguard regarded her for a second before taking the Staff and nudging it between his back and his pack, held together by friction. He stood up to take cover by the corner of a building, Angela running up beside him. Donned in her Valkyrie swift response suit, she planted a hand once again on his shoulder, looking up and nodding at him, before the metallic wings on her back expanded and a gold light flooded out of them with a glistening sound. He tried his best not to stare at her wings. Taking a step back, the winged woman rocketed off towards the wall, a trail of gold shimmering behind her. Promptly, as soon as she cleared their line of sight, the guards burst from cover and fired towards the East. The cacophony of their small arms drowning out most other sounds, except other gunfire.

Scoping his carbine, he could see a series of muzzles flashes in the distance and unloaded his magazine at that direction. Too far and obscured to hit targets, only hoping to suppress them in this situation. But as his finger kept squeezing the trigger, feeling the rifle lightly kick against his shoulder with every click, his vision drifted to the left and peered at the wall. He saw Angela, literally sifting bodies away to let her reach through the pile. Still firing, spent brass casings flying in his peripheral vision, he watches as she finally stands up and is holding something in her arms. She then flew across the street again and was back on their side. Nathan twisted from cover to reload and saw Angela was cradling the crying infant against her chest. The baby, wrapped in rags and covered in blood, was then handed to an aid worker who ran back to the aid truck.

Back on the street, their technical drove further up and was in the middle of the street, the mounted gun creating concussive blasts that kicked up the sand and dirt around them. Rounds pinged off its armor. Without a word, Angela ran around and behind the technical before flying back to the wall. The technical obscuring his view of the wall, Nathan peeked from cover again and fired off his rifle, dumping at least half of the magazine in a few seconds as he just focused on the muzzle flashes. However, his cover suddenly cracked and popped, forcing him to recoil back. The sound of golden light made him cast his gaze up to see the Field Medic was back, this time holding a boy in rags. As with the baby, a worker took the child by the hand. However, she placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward breathing heavily.

"You alright?" Nathan ran up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," Angela responded in between breaths. "There's still two more! Get ready!"

He nodded, already running back to the corner and changing out mags. However, he heard a faint screeching and nearly fell on his ass as what appeared to be a bright ball of fire flew across the street and over them, nearly hitting their armored vehicle.

"Jesus fuck that's an RPG!"

"Back up! Back up! Back the fuck up, now!"

A repetitive, high-pitched noise now emitted from the armored vehicle as it slowly began to back up, the turret still delivering fire until the nearby buildings obstructed its line of sight. However, it slowly peeled back to reveal Dr. Ziegler now holding another child in her arms, then flying across the street and dodging streaks of lights. She went up to Nathan as he was the closest and he held out his arms and grabbed the child – a girl in a little pink dress with curly short hair – from her. He barely had time to say anything as the rescuer then turned and flew right back to the wall. One of the local security took the little girl from him, speaking to her in Arabic over the gunfire as Nathan went back to the corner and repeated what he has been doing for the past couple of minutes. However, as his carbine rocked in his hands with every repetitive motion, his eyes drifted to the wall.

At first, he couldn't see the Doctor, his eyes scanning across the blood-stained barrier, seeing rounds whizz by like flies or sometimes strike a hard surface. Finally, spotting a blotch of white and gold, he sees the blonde still at the pile, hunched over. She was taking longer than before, Nathan feeling something build up in his throat as he watched her be there for ten seconds. Then, twenty seconds. Then, thirty seconds. And when it was getting close to a minute, a plume of debris got into his eyes, making him wince as he withdrew from the corner. Getting his glasses off and rubbing his eyes, his looks back up and across the street to see why Angela was being held up. She was trying to carry a man, bigger than her, with his arms slung over her shoulders. Her wings, while were expanded and emanated that golden glow, weren't strong enough to speedily carry both their bodies across the killzone. He felt his heart jump into his throat when Angela nearly tripped and dropped the unconscious man. Peering from the corner, seeing the muzzle flashes in the distance did not drop in their intensity, he looked down at his hands to see All-American and a fresh mag. He then looked at the wall, the blood and guts splattered across it.

"Not her… Not her."

Jamming the mag in and slapping the bolt-lock, the Courier dashed from cover onto the street towards the two.

"Hey, where the hell are you going?!"

He ignored them as he got closer to Angela, closing the distance as fast as he could. She looked up and was shocked.

"Nathan, what are you-?!"

"Get to cover, I'll take care of him!" the tall Waster declared, grabbing the man and throwing him over his left shoulder. "Go, I'll cover you!"

Angela stared at him for a second, her eyes wide in disbelief, but she jumped up and grabbed her Staff from his pack before flying across the street and getting to safety before them. Nathan ran, obviously slower than usual but faster than if Angela was by herself, as he fired his carbine like a pistol almost aimlessly to the East. He could feel the rounds whizzing around him, buzzing by his ears like a Cazador. The survivor's limbs flopping uncontrollably from his movements, hitting the side of his body. The Courier had walked half of the road until he felt a sudden pain in his left thigh. He dropped to his knee, gritting his teeth as a stifled groan of pain emanated from between them. He could feel the blood start to rush out from the wound, but Nathan ignored the feeling as he now limped across the street. Feeling the pain surge with every pressure on his left foot, like something was cooking his flesh from the inside. He always hated that about getting shot. The burning sensation from a still hot round. Laser weapons at least cauterized the wound upon impact, but they weren't that much better. With a final cry of exertion, he made it behind the cover of the shot-up building and fell to the ground on his forearm. The man he carried flopped to the ground, two guards rushed to him then grabbed him by the shoulders and legs before carrying him back to the truck. The rescuer tried to pick himself up before he felt some people grab him by the strap of his pack and begin to drag him up the street.

"Base command," one of the voices behind yelled over the radio. "We're pulling out! Rescued all the civilians from the site. Coming in with wounded! Over."

As he was carried and slid against the concrete, the Wastelander looked up and found himself staring at the bloody wall. The sight of the corpses and the mural of blood becoming farther away. The sound of the battlefield still hammering his ears. Breathing raggedly, he reached to his behind and retrieved a canteen wrapped in blue leather. Looking down at it, the yellow, grimy number "13" greeted him before he picked the cap off with a bloody hand and brought the nozzle up to his mouth. Feeling the liquid wash down his mouth, but with a burning sensation. After taking two big gulps, he let the canteen down before sprinkling some of the liquid over his wound, the stinging bringing some of the pain away from the bullet. He could still feel the projectile in there, felt close to a 5.56, the only bright side that it seemed to miss his main artery. How close, he didn't have the time nor patience for.

'Still tried to help… Still got shot…'

The Courier eyed at his canteen, again, the top now dirty with sand and crimson. He brought his sleeve up, wiping it against the metal. It just smeared the blood across the shiny metal, but it was good enough as he brought it up to his mouth, again.

* * *

The campfire's flames dance across the shiny chrome parts of his canteen as he looked down at it, hunched over as he occupied a seat close to the fire. His finger gently rubbed against the leather grafted to the container, feeling the indentation of the yellow number. Nathan has had that thing for as long as he could remember, being one of the few things he brought from his home in the canyons. A memento, left by the village's ancestors. And like a lot of things he brought or learned from Arroyo, it helped on the long treks through the desert. Shaking his trusty canteen, he hears the liquid slosh and could feel it was about half-empty. A bit perturbed by this, but it should be enough for the dinner he was preparing.

At his feet, there was an old Vault-Tec lunchbox open wide and filled with discarded containers, while next to it was a tray that had sliced pink meat in one section and steaming white mush in the other. The last ingredient was a can marked with the fading label "Greasy Prospector" near its rim, and it was cooking over the campfire. He could smell the mixture of two-hundred-year-old pork and beans from where he was sitting, his watering mouth not helping with hunger.

It didn't take long for him to get patched up, mainly due to him performing some…  _Self-medicating_  to expedite the process and get back on his feet in no time. He had faith in the Swiss doctor's magical wonder stick, but he was just too impatient to wait and see. Pulling the bullet out hurt like a motherfucker, though. His hand went to his left thigh, but he felt the fresh pair of pants covering his healed wound. It still felt a bit numb, but he'd take that over the sensation of his veins almost getting ruptured any day of the week.

He looked back at the campfire after hearing a few pops and bubbling from the can of food, seeing steam rising from its open top. With a tool, he grabbed the can and hovered it over to his food tray, then dumped out its hot contents onto the metal pocket. As he watched the moist beans spill out of the can, he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. The campfire provided just enough light for him to spot Dr. Angela Ziegler walking towards him, out of her Valkyrie suit and in casual clothing under a doctor's coat. Nathan got up to address her and was about to ask if she wanted something to eat until she got closer to the flame to show her expression. The usually friendly and approachable looking blonde now had an expression that said anything but. As if to further express her discontent, she crossed her arms over her chest as she kept looking at him with those critical, blue eyes. Nathan stood there and sighed, tugging at a corner of his mouth as he looked around for a split second until he gazed back at her. The Doctor just slightly raising an eyebrow in response.

"Yup, you're pissed…" he observed, not even going to pretend he was clueless.

"I wouldn't say that, but… Yes," Dr. Ziegler clarified, maintaining her stern gaze. "I'm disappointed, Nathan. In how you acted today."

"Yup," Brin concurred, sitting back on his box but still facing her. "I'd imagine."

"I'm serious, Brin. You were reckless and made things more difficult than they should've been. It may not have looked like it, but I had things under control. What were you thinking rushing out into the street like that?"

"I was thinking it was going to be more difficult for you to lug a full-grown adult male across gunfire than carrying the children would be. You would've become a slower target, thus, an easier target. I didn't want to risk that."

"But you apparently didn't mind risking yourself and possibly the well-being of others, including the man I was carrying before you got to him. And as if it was to prove my point, you still got wounded in the process of your 'rescue'!"

Her tone had gotten louder, firmer as she went on. This wasn't the first time the Courier was on the receiving end of a verbal scolding for something he did, not by a long shot, but this was the first time he was receiving such a lecture from Dr. Ziegler. Though, she wasn't the only one disappointed with the Waster that evening.

"But, I understand your heart was in the right place," the Swiss woman lightened up, sighing as her eyes drifted to a corner before coming back up. "And you are right – I couldn't use the Valkyrie's wings to launch myself and the man across the street, so it indeed would've been slower transporting him than a child. It wasn't necessary… But you did help. Unfortunately, that isn't the main reason for why I'm mad at you."

His eyes snapped up at her when she said that, feeling his heart skip a beat as his mind started to race to the most obvious reason for what she meant.

"What is?" he enquired, despite being completely aware that Angela was smarter than his stupid question would imply.

"Don't act coy with me, Nathan," she responded, narrowing her eyes at him and not having any of it. "I heard about what happened last night; That a cart of supplies mysteriously appeared in front of the camp, and the thief from earlier beaten and restrained next to it. At first, I didn't make the connection, but when I overheard that the man said he was apparently ambushed by a man in  _black armor_  with  _red eyes…_  Well, I certainly don't remember Morrison coming here or ever wearing black, and I did notice you were missing from the tent that night - so, it couldn't be anyone else, could it?"

Angela stared down at him as he slowly rubs his hand against his scruff, rubbing his chin in between his thumb and finger. Looking at the ground beneath her feet.

"I see your point… Though, I have a feeling you wouldn't detest to the supplies coming back to people who need it dearly or the thief being caught. No, you're mad about something else. Is it…?"

"He talked about what had happened at the warehouse. What happened to the seven other men there. Tell me, Nathan, did you really have to resort to such-?"

"They outnumbered me, were armed, and were stealing supplies from a refugee camp. As far as I'm concerned, getting those supplies back is all that mattered… And I didn't hear you protest that night at Lijiang, Oasis, or Giza when I shot at people."

"Because innocent lives were directly in danger at that moment," Angela retorted, stepping closer to the sitting man. "This situation was different, there was an opportunity for you to not take all their lives and still get those supplies back."

"And what would you have suggested that I do?" Nathan questioned, his brow furrowing. "Ask the eight men armed with fully-automatic weapons for the supplies they've been stealing, nicely? Use what little non-lethal methods I have and significantly decrease my own chances of survival? I've been around the block, but I'm sure as hell not keen on handicapping myself to preserve a few thieving scumbags."

Nathan got up, all riled, and paced around the crackling campfire. Angela stood there, staring at the flame go as her expression dampened, seeing that there was a point to his actions. Even if they were violent. Nathan rubbed his face into the palm of his hands, grumbling at the fact that his actions were now being called into question by someone else in Overwatch. As if the Waster didn't have enough on his plate.

"But…" he said, his voice muffled by his hands until he let them down. "I understand your concern. If this really does trouble you, Doctor, I'll consider…  _Restraining_  myself if I encounter another situation like this."

He turned around to look at Angela, who looked up at him with a curious expression.

"You'll  _consider_  it?" she questioned, not entirely convinced.

"Old habits die hard," the Wastelander responded. "Habits I learned in the Wastes have proven useful. I'm not regretting their use. But, as I said, if it troubles you I'll think about turning it down a notch. It's the least I can do for you."

Angela stared at Nathan, unsure of how to take that entire response. It didn't sound like a promise, so it wasn't a guarantee, but it seemed like a start. It would, however, be another thing the Doctor would have to concern herself with, but what's another pin to the pile? This was still a compromise, and compromise is good. More so, considering who she was even speaking to. She honestly didn't expect him to turn around so easily…

Angela opened her mouth to respond but was cut off as the sudden chopping of helicopter blades rushed over the camp and made them look up to the sky. It was another transport chopper, same as the one that dropped them off a day earlier. Not expecting visitors so soon, the two exchanged glances with each other before Angela adjusted her coat to cover her body from the cold wind and began walking to the landing pad. Her colleague switched back and forth between her and the tray of food on the ground until he groaned and started following the blonde.

At the landing, they saw the helicopter was already on the ground and its occupants were filing out the ramp. To their surprise, it was more Overwatch personnel unloading crates and supplies. To an even bigger surprise, a dark-skinned woman walked out in a blue dress with golden stripes and highlights, wearing a white headset with wing coming off at the side and a blue visor over her eyes. Nathan almost didn't recognize her as she walked up to them.

"Satya?" he asked aloud.

"Mister… Brin, is it?" Vaswani stopped in front of them, her hands folded in front of her. "And Dr. Ziegler. How are both of you this evening?"

"Umm… We're fine," Ziegler answered, eyeing the man next to her. "What are you doing here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Were you not informed? I believed Mr. Winston sent out a message to you. I assumed you would have seen it."

"He did?" the Doctor asked before her face grew with realization. "Oh, I left my tablet at the tent! I was out on a search party. He must've sent the message during that time."

Hearing that, Vaswani raised an eyebrow, her eyes then looking up and down at the older woman.

"I see," she stated, her face going back to neutral. "That's unfortunate. Well, then I am here to inform you that I have been sent to this refugee camp to provide aid in the form of hard-light construction for the denizens here."

"Oh, that's great!" Angela admitted, smiling. "I'm glad Winston was able to convince you to do such a thing."

"Indeed, but you can thank Vishkar for this initiative. I am also here to inform you that you must depart soon and report back to Gibraltar."

"What? So soon already?"

The smile on her face disappeared and was replaced by worry as she bowed her head slightly, her blue eyes darting across the ground. Nathan looked down at her, his face growing with some concern, too. Satya furrowed her eyebrows.

"Do you wish to stay?" the Architect asked.

"Yes, actually…" the Doctor answered, before straightening herself. "At least a little while longer. There is still much work to be done."

"This isn't a part of the plan."

"I know, but Winston will understand. I'll contact him to tell him I'll be here for a while but not too long."

The Architect stared at her, her head now cocking to the side slightly as if trying to get another perspective on something directly in front of her.

"Of course," the Doctor started again, turning around to face the man behind her. "Nathan can go if he pleases."

"I'm good, actually," Nathan responded, making Angela look up at him in mild surprise. "If you're going to stay, I should, as well. I'm still your bodyguard, mind you."

The charge tilted her head to the side with a slight frown, the bodyguard just shrugging.

"Then, I will leave the choice to you," Vaswani interjected, bowing to them both before walking past and going off to the camp to do her work. "I suggest contacting Mr. Winston to inform him of your decisions."

The two watched her go, the blue dress trailing slightly in the desert wind. After a few moments of silence, Nathan addressed Angela.

"So… When did she become a part of Overwatch?" the Courier questioned.

"When you left for Numbani," the Doctor answered. "Ms. Vaswani is polite but things became rather  _interesting_  since her recruitment. The other agents and staff aren't quite sure what to think of her."

"Well, I'm not gonna think about this stuff on an empty stomach. I'm going back to the campfire."

He started to make his way back to the camp until he stopped and twisted around to face Angela to ask, "You want some food, by the way?"

Again, Nathan surprised her as she recalled them arguing just minutes earlier and reckoned he would be holding a grudge for a period after. Also, she was quickly becoming astounded by how openly friendly the tall, usually brooding man was acting recently. It was… different seeing him like this.

"Sure," she accepted, walking up to him. "I could eat."


	35. Expectations

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

Tools and hardware clanked throughout Winston's lab, the space being occupied by a Chinese Climatologist in glasses, a tall Bastion Unit with only one functional arm, a floating blue drone with snow-like propulsions coming from its underside, and a yellow bird. The Omnic watched with apparent interest, his one eye incapable of blinking, as the scientist in the blue tank top carefully inserted a component into a slot until she heard an audible click within the device. She hummed in delight then smirked and looked up at the tall robot, who tilted his head in response. She then retrieved a heavy jacket and a welding helmet, putting them over her body for safety. Her drone floated up beside her, but with a pair of stylish sunglasses over his eyes.

"Okay, Bastion!" Mei said, fixing the protective black mask over her face. "Go ahead! It's your turn now."

"Eeeeoooo Eeto!" Bastion responded with a nod before he lifted his left arm into the air, his appendage then "opened up" to let the hand slide in before it twisted and produced a completely different appendage that looked like a mechanical tentacle. He then brought the little tip at the end towards the device and started producing a highly concentrated flame, also producing sparks that bounced around like rain. Mei and Snowball watching intently to make sure it was being done correctly, but even that was largely unneeded as Bastion welded with the precision and speed expected of a machine. It wasn't long until the Omnic was done, stepping back as Mei flipped up her mask to examine his handiwork. She smiled and looked up at her bigger assistant.

"Good job, Bastion!" she praised, raising one thumb up to him. "See? I said you would do fine."

"Weeeooo!" he responded, looking at his fist before imitating the motion, one metallic thumb upright in the air.

"Now we just have to find the perfect place to test this. I'm so excited! Are you?"

However, before they could relish further in their achievement, rather loud snoring noise turned their heads to see Nathan sitting in a chair at one of the desks in the middle of the room, his body hunched over. He was there to watch over Bastion as the machine helped Dr. Zhou with her experiments, but it seemed the man was too exhausted to do such a thing.

"Well, some of us, at least. Your friend's a bit tired, Bastion."

"Tkkie."

"You know, Angela told me about what happened on their mission to Iraq… Some pretty intense stuff. So, I can see why he might be exhausted," the Doctor's friend explained before her lips twisted into a sly smile as she leaned close to Bastion and whispered, "But, she also told me Nathan actually made her dinner back in Iraq. Now, isn't that something?"

Being told that, Bastion just tilted his head in confusion as the machine didn't understand what that was supposed to mean, his blue eye shuffling back and forth between her and Nathan.

"Qwee?" he elicited, perplexed as to what she was alluding to.

"Well, how would I put it?" she mulled, tapping her chin as tried to think of how she would explain the concept to an old war-bot. "When one person makes dinner for another person, it sometimes means that they care for them. That they like them."

"…Wee?"

"Well, I mean  _really_  like them. So much so that they want to be more than friends. That they want to do everything and anything with that person they really like. I'm not one to assume such a thing about people - I hate gossip - and I doubt a can of beans will win anyone over, but… It's kind of cute to think about."

Mei let out a little giggle as she went to her desk and began writing on a piece of paper while Bastion looked back at his friend, who still slept undisturbed. However, the Omnic rotated his head to the door as he heard what sounded like piles of metal being dragged across the hard-surface floor. At the door, Hana Song comes into the room but is struggling as she's hauling what appears to be a very large bag filled with random bits of scrap and metal parts. The Gamer, dressed in a pink tank top and short jean shorts, was gritting her teeth and sweating buckets as she dragged the bag possibly ten times her size across the floor to a corner. Bastion and Mei could only just stare at her, but the latter able to arch her eyebrows. As Hana ultimately reached the corner and let go of her haul, leaning against her knees as she breathed in huge gulps of air, Reinhardt and Brigitte then walked in, each carrying baggage of their own. Reinhardt, the large man he is, carried two particularly large crates in each arm but wasn't struggling nearly as much as the tinier young woman who came in before them. Brigitte carried a large box in her arms, but also fared much better than Hana and wasn't steaming red. They dropped their deliveries next to Hana's huge pile and Reinhardt clapped the exhausted girl on the back, almost knocking her down.

"You did well!" he boisterously claimed, standing tall with his hands on his hips.

"Is this… Really necessary for my training?" she questioned in between breaths, glaring up at him.

"Of course! I don't know what they teach you in the Korean Army, but the  _Bundeswehr_  has a proud tradition of making sure our soldiers and in peak physical condition."

"Does that include lifting huge bags of junk?"

"What you see as junk, I see munitions, equipment, weaponry - anything that you may find on the battlefield that needs to be transported by hand. Besides, we're transporting it to our allies, are we not? Sometimes, getting them the proper things they need can be the difference between life and death. The Crisis made this very clear: Rely on your comrades or be torn apart by a Bastion's minigun!"

"Umm, Rein?" Brigitte interrupted, nudging the old veteran, before pointing to the other side of the room.

"What? Oh! My apologies Bastion! I-uh… Meant no offense."

The tall Omnic tilted his head as he let out an inquisitive beep. Then, without warning, Hana fell to the floor, facing up. Mei got up from her seat and ran over to the fatigued girl. Worried, she bent down, holding the younger woman's head up and checking to see if she was still conscious. She was, but she was still breathing heavily.

"Everything huurrrts," Hana whined, letting out a very long groan.

"Come on, back on your feet Cadet Song! We still have plenty of work and training to do," Reinhardt stated, looking down at her.

"I'm not a cadet… Urrrggghhhh…"

Brigitte crossed her arms and frowned, casting a snappish glare up at Reinhardt. He only responded with a shrug.

"I think you may have overworked her, Reinhardt," Mei said, laying her hand on her forehead. "She doesn't look, and sound, very well."

"Bah! Kids these days, thinking they can't haul a few kilograms… Fine, I'll grant you a break, for now, Hana. But I promise, a few more sessions like these and you will be as strong as me in no time!"

"Please don't," Hana meekly pleaded.

Reinhardt let out a chuckle as he patted her lightly on the shoulder before departing, Brigitte rolling her eyes as she followed him. After they left, Mei helped Hana stand up and guided her to a chair and sat her in it. The Chinese woman looked up at Bastion, Snowball, and Ganymede.

"I'm going to find her some water and maybe some help. Watch over her, okay?" she asked, all of them letting out a respective noise of acknowledgment. Even the bird.

Mei ran off, soon leaving the room in search of refreshments, leaving them all alone. The room was quiet when she had left, the gentle humming of the electronics and equipment occupying the space. However, after about half-a-minute had passed, Hana, still slumped over in the chair seemingly knocked out, cautiously opened one eye, and scanned the room before opening the other and seeing they really were alone. She then sprung up from her chair and stretched her arms high in the air, as if she was not exhausted from the manual labor she was just committing seconds earlier. The other three exchanged glances with each other before looking at Hana.

"Finally!" the young woman exclaimed, feeling relieved. "I thought I was going to be stuck hauling scrap with Grandpa Rein forever!"

"Hooeee?" Bastion let out, staring.

"Perks of being an actress. Make yourself look hurt even when you're not."

A sly smirk crept on the Korean's face as she tapped the side of her noggin, taking pride in her ability to outsmart her older colleagues. This only drew another confused whir from the Omnic. Hana frowned that her message did not totally get across to the machine, realizing there was still much for Bastion to learn from people. In-turn, there was still much for her to learn from the machine, especially since she still didn't understand a single beep from his non-existent mouth. Though, the Pro-Gamer found a sort of challenge in that; trying her best to decipher what Bastion meant by herself, like a detective working out a mysterious code. She certainly wasn't going to ask Nathan to translate every boop.

Her thoughts were disturbed as she heard a raucous noise and looked across the room to see Nathan hunched over, still sleeping and completely unaware of what was happening in the room. At first, Hana raised an eyebrow as she noticed there were things surrounding him on the desk. Intrigued, she walked over to him but a little light on her footsteps to not disturb his slumber. Getting to the desk, she saw the items around him were pieces of his armor, random gadgets, and a book that was opened halfway and set down on the pages. Unfortunately for him, Hana's interest only piqued more. She was about to reach out to something until loud metallic stomping made her shrink up and twist around to see Bastion walking up to her.

"Shh!" Hana immediately brought a finger up to her mouth. "Quiet!"

"Heeennn?" Bastion stopped, rotating his body in surprise.

Hana sighed, then twisted around as she heard more snoring, looking to see that Nathan was still fast asleep despite the machine's big metal stomps.

'Guess he's a heavy sleeper,' she figured, before directing her gaze back to his stuff. 'Or is tired, AF.'

Immediately in front of her was that "black armor" of his, specifically the armored cuirass, his folded-up duster under that, and the red-eyed helm, which was facing Hana and made it seem like it was staring at her. It was kind of creepy, reminding her of something she'd seen in those old movies when she was younger. Scary men in even scarier masks. Keeping an eye on the sleeping Waster, she slowly reaches out and grabbed the helmet with both hands. Lifting it up, the metal helmet was heavier than she expected but she maintained a sturdy grip on it. Her muscles seized up and froze when Nathan started shifting, mumbling in his sleep. However, after half-a-minute passed and he didn't move another inch and kept snoring, Hana relaxed. She held the helmet close to her chest as she turned and walked back to the other side of the room, where Bastion and the others still were. There, they huddled next to each other and seemed equally nosy about the helmet the human was holding.

"This thing is really beat up. I wonder what  _exactly_ he's been doing before he met us," Song examined, rotating the headgear in her hands to see obvious signs of wear and tear: Scratches, fading, rust, and dents. She also saw notches etched into the left side of the helmet, what she would presume to be kills, but there seemed to be fewer than there should be. The red lenses were too opaque to see through, so she flipped the helmet to peer inside. There was padding, the insides of the filtration system, and of course, the eyes themselves. It looked like an impressive system, tightly packed into an invaluable piece of head equipment. Yet, it still looked distinguished enough from what helmets of a similar caliber were like in her world. Mainly how bulky and large some of the electronic components were, and how "antiquated" some of the control schemes seemed. Especially the silver toggle switch on the right side, a switch that she was pretty sure went out of style a couple of decades, ago. It kinda smelled weird, too, but it wasn't that bad.

Curiosity only rising, she removed her headphones and brushed her hair to the side before putting the helmet over her head and having her world become a shade redder. It was a loose fit, obviously meant for someone who towered more than a foot over her, but she was at least able to see through the lenses. Hana pivoted her head, looking all around as she had her hands on either side to keep it from rocking too much. Snowball's blue hull floated into her red-tinted view, the little drone's eyes twitching. Bastion's blue eye leaned into view, too.

"Jeez, how is he not seeing red all the time?" she questioned, her voice muffled by the helmet. "Wait, isn't there a microphone built into this thing?"

Her right hand went up to the side of the helm and felt around the large side component. At first, having a difficult time trying to distinguish which parts she could manipulate and which she couldn't, showing the ergonomics were a bit lacking. Then, her fingers felt a metal bit protruding from the rest of the helmet and flipped it on. However, instead of amplifying the sound of her voice through the speaker, everything in her sight became bright and her eyes squinted. They were inside so it wasn't enough to be blinding, and after a few seconds, she was able to fully open her eyelids to look out into the world before her in a new light… Of orange.

"…Seriously…?" Hana expressed disappointment, her hands falling to the side. "It's just night vision? I thought it was going to be something cool like targeting systems. Or thermal imaging. Or wall-hacks! But… night vision? What is this? The Twentieth-Century?"

The disappointed young woman reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone, a rectangular device with a pink backside and her bunny logo decorating it. She swipes through the screen, pulling up the camera so she can at least see how she looked. As soon as it switched to the front camera and saw herself in the frame, her eyes lit up and her lips formed a grin.

"Oooh, but I look badass!" she declared with a wide smile under the mask. "Oh, I have to share this! Can you imagine what all my followers will think when they see me wearing this thing? Especially how much he's been in the news lately? They're going to go berserk!"

Bastion wasn't sure what the Korean celebrity was talking about as she raised her phone in the air, adjusting the helmet on her head, and posed her hand with two erect fingers close to her glowing eyes. The wartime Omnic watched as the little rectangle in her hand flashed and made a clicking noise every time she tapped the screen, saving little pictures on the device. His square head rotated to look back at Nathan, back at her, then back at Nathan. He stomped away from Hana, who was still taking an inordinate number of pictures in the span of a few seconds, switching between poses and angles to try to get the best possible result. She was even making faces despite them being concealed, but she couldn't help it. The young woman kept taking photos as metallic stomps were approaching her from behind, but the helmet muffled her hearing. It was in the middle of her "photography session" that she noticed something was off, stopped, and swiped through her phone to see someone had come up behind her in the pictures. Flipping the red-eyes off and taking the helm off, she turned around and became wide-eyed at what she saw next.

Bastion was before her with an armored chest piece loosely attached to his central chassis, barely covering anything on his large metal chest. Upon closer inspection, it was Nathan's riot armor dangling from the robot's body. That wasn't the only thing, as he also had the Waster's duster draped over his back and flapping in the air. The big machine wasn't even able to wear it like a coat, so one of the arms was wrapped around one of the metal supports that formed his "neck" and was more of a cape. Hana just stared up at him with her mouth agape, dumbstruck. Barely able to comprehend the sight the human beheld.

"Zwee?" Bastion asked, trying to gauge the human's reaction.

"O. M. G!" Hana exclaimed, her mouth contorting into an ear-to-ear grin.

Song brought her hands up to her face, smooshing her cheeks as she could barely contain the glee she felt from watching a robot literally designed for war try to put on human clothes. That fact they comically didn't fit only helped fan the fire set off within her. The gears in her head turning faster than the gears in Bastion's entire body, any fatigue that was in her now dissipated. The Omnic stepped back from the short human, afraid he might've set something off, but before he could do anything, there was already a scheme connived in her young mind.

"Come on!" she grabbed his big, metallic hand and pulled on it. "I know what we're going to do for the rest of the day!"

"Wooozzz cht!" Bastion exclaimed, the big war-bot permitted himself to be dragged but was still worried about what was going to happen.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Hana cheekily responded, already halfway to the side entrance.

"Ms. Song?" Athena called out over the intercom, a worried tone in her voice. "You do realize you're-"

"Can't hear you! Byyyyyeeee!"

And off they went, her voice growing distant as they left the lab and Ganymede flying out to catch up with his big metal friend.

"…Oh dear."

The only individuals left were Nathan and Snowball, the latter just floating there and staring at the door with his LED eyes. The drone rotated on his axis and looked at Nathan, who was still fast asleep and completely unaware that his armor had been procured for reasons yet unknown. The blue drone blinked, before floating away and leaving the sleeping man all alone.

* * *

"Just up this way, Angela," Mei instructed, leading Dr. Ziegler to Winston's lab. "Bastion and the others should still be watching over her."

"I knew Reinhardt's regimen was going to be too much for her," Angela said with a frown, marching through the door with a first aid kit in one hand. "As soon as I'm done treating Hana, I am going to speak with Wilhelm and give him a piece of my mi-"

They stopped at the doorway, seeing that it was empty save for one person, who was still asleep on a desk when they walked into the laboratory. Mei's eyes darted all over the lab, adjusting her glasses to see if her vision was faulty. She ran over to the desk where she remembered everyone being to find only her notes and the equipment where she had left it.

"But she was right here!" she exclaimed, before running up the stairs and up to the office if she was there.

Angela walked into the center of the room, looking around to see if she could spot Hana anywhere before sighing and putting the medical kit onto the desk. The feeling of the kit hitting the desk shook Nathan and he slowly rose from the desk, groaning from the nap as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. Angela cringed at what she accidentally did and went over to the sleepy man's side.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she tried to apologize. "I didn't mean to!"

"Urgh… Dr. Ziegler?" Nathan questioned, looking up at her with still groggy eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to address an apparent medical emergency. However, the supposed patient is not here."

"Patient? What patient? Who."

"Hana."

Nathan glanced up at her before shaking his head as he dug his eyes into his fingers, still trying to rub the sleep out of it.

"Wish I was surprised," he groaned. "She's here one second and gone the next. What was she doing here?"

"Well, Reinhardt was apparently working too hard, to the point that she collapsed on the lab floor. Instead, I find you're the only one present. Bastion and Mei's drone appear to be gone, too."

"They're probably just doing something for shits and giggles, I wouldn't put her above anything else."

"I hope your assumption is correct."

"Yeah… So, how're you holding up?"

"I beg your pardon?" Angela looked at him, furrowing her eyebrow.

"I'm talking about the dinner I made you not too long ago," Nathan explained, a bit embarrassed. "Y'know, the beans?"

The blonde's face lit up with realization before shifting into an amused expression.

"Oh, that!" the Swiss woman said, regarding Nathan with no contempt. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking. I appreciated that you wanted to make me dinner that night, but I believe in the future you should caution to everyone that the entrees you cooked were…  _From home._ "

"I'll keep it in mind," the Waster responded, scratching his head. "Least it didn't have Rads. Speaking of Rads, I have something I've been meaning to show you. Some anti-radiation medicine from back home. Figured you'd probably find some use in it."

"You have such a thing?"

"Yeah, consider it part of the  _exchange_ between Overwatch and I. In fact, I should have it around here somewhere-"

He paused as his eyes landed on the desk and instantly noticed something was missing. Angela was about to ask if there was something wrong before he barked into the air, "Athena!"

"Yes, Mr. Brin?" the AI immediately chimed in.

"Where's that damn kid?!" he questioned, rising from his seat.

"'Kid', sir?"

"Song! Where the hell is she?!"

The AI didn't immediately respond to that question, silence hanging in the air. Angela awkwardly stood there while her eyes occasionally drifted to Nathan and the ceiling, hugging her holopad close to her chest. She slowly rose one of her eyebrows as she observed the entire scene, wondering if what Nathan was implying was true. It would certainly explain her absence, and wouldn't be too surprising for the Swiss Doctor. Though, theft did seem a bit much for someone like Hana. She was worried how Brin was going to "discipline" the young lady.

"Athena!" he repeated himself, saying her name with a thoroughly aggravated tone.

"Nathan… I-"

"Screw it, I'll find her myself."

The Waster was already storming off to the door, fuming, but the six-foot-six man was stopped in his tracks as an arm in a doctor's coat grabbed his right forearm and he looked down to see Dr. Ziegler looking up at him with a stern expression. Those sharp, bright-blue eyes enough to almost quell the angry state Brin was in.

"Nathan," she said, in a tone as firm as her look. "Remember what we discussed in Iraq: Do not do anything rash or reckless. I know you're mad at Hana and understandably so, but please keep in mind who you're speaking to and what you might do."

"Relax, Doctor," he responded, though it wasn't really reassuring as he meant it to be. "I'm just going to give the ki-"

"Hana. Her name is Hana," she corrected without faltering.

"… 'Hana'… A few stern words and a lecture about appropriating someone else's possessions. Maybe figure out what the hell she's doing with them, for starters."

"I hope that's the extent of it. You know this isn't unwarranted, Brin."

"…Yeah…"

Nathan turned and began to walk away from Angela, but he paused, then pivoted on his heel to face her.

"Uh, I'll show you those radiation supplies, next time. I'll try not to get sidetracked, then."

"I'll… look forward to it, Nathan."

"Again, I'm sorry… Um, later."

He finally left, leaving Angela to stand there and look at the doorway before she brought a hand up to her face and groaned deeply. Shaking her blonde head into the palm of her hand. It was still the afternoon, but she already felt exhausted, wanting to crawl into bed and take a much-wanted nap. Rest her aching head on the soft cloud of a pillow. Lock the responsibilities and problems of the day behind her room door. Alas, she was still the head Doctor in Overwatch. Some things just didn't change.

' _Verdammt,_ I should have gone with him,' she admits to herself, finding another reason to be disappointed with the day. 'At least, keep an eye on things… But that won't really be needed for him. Would it?'

Finished wrinkling the skin above her nose Angela looked up to see Nathan was still gone, probably halfway to wherever Hana was. She turned to the desk and retrieved the medical pack and was about to make her way out the door, too, until she stopped and heard a noise above her. It was faint, but it sounded like giggling.

Angela craned her head upwards to the second floor of Winston's laboratory. There, she spotted someone leaning against the railing, looking down at her and holding a hand over their giggling mouth. It was Mei, apparently amused by something. The Doctor furrowed her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes at the Climatologist.

"Mei? What are you laughing at?" she questioned, putting one hand on her hip.

"Oh, Dr. Ziegler," Mei said in between fits of giggles. "I was just thinking how cute you and Nathan look together."

Angela gasped, bringing a hand up to her open mouth and scowling at her friend/colleague for having such scandalous and salacious thoughts. Though, in the back of in her head, she could see the humor in it. The Doctor only didn't want to laugh with her for fear of her jests to be mistaken for confirmation of a workplace relationship, another headache she'd rather not get into given the circumstances of late.

"Mei!" Angela exclaimed, putting fists on her hips. "I expected better of you! Besides, I was only discussing something with Brin. Nothing more."

"Oh, Angela," Mei said, shaking her head with a blissful smile as giggled more. "I may be the one with glasses, but you're more visually impaired than I am."

"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked, her expression shifting.

"Did you really not see how Nathan was talking with you? Interacting with you? Honey, he's got the hots for you!"

Angela rolled her blue eyes.

"Oh, please. I doubt someone like Nathan would even consider something like that. Even if he does, there's still that fact that he's…"

The Doctor stopped herself, almost divulging information that she was sure her friend would have been more than confused by. Information that only a few select people should know and ever know, lest they want the entire world's perception of the universe and reality to be called into question. Very delicate information, to put it lightly.

"He's… what?" Mei asked, looking down at her colleague.

"Nothing, I'm just getting ahead of myself," Angela dismissed, straightening her white coat. "I must really get back to my office. You're lucky that we're not in a legitimate organization anymore, Dr. Zhou, or else I would write a report for workplace gossip."

"Let a girl have fun with their ships, Angela."

"…'Ships'?"

* * *

There's not much one can do when a six-foot-six-inch muscly man with scars all over him is stomping his way down steel and concrete corridors with imaginary steam coming out of his ears, other than getting the hell out of his way. Nathan's deadpan expression betrayed the fact that he was livid, and despite that talk the Courier had with Angela just minutes prior, he wasn't keen on holding back on someone stealing from him. Stealing a helmet that has protected his head and face for ages. Stealing armor that protected him from whatever the Wasteland had in store for him. Stealing a duster that protected his flesh from becoming as tanned as leather in the Mojave Sun. Really, the Courier only said what he said to Angela to make her feel better and not encourage her to follow.

Not a whole lot of other things ran through his mind when he marched down the halls, barely acknowledging how he was making a few people dodge out of his way and garnering a few stares. He didn't give a shit. Why would he? He was never a part of their band of rejects, so why would he be bothered if they were caused some inconvenience for the day. The Courier was used to wandering open, wide deserts. It was never his fault that he was imprisoned to a base on a rock. He barely even leaves the little quarters they had the "courtesy" to bequeath him with, despite being somewhat of an arrangement on his part. Nathan wasn't even sure if he was gaining anything from this. Surrendering technology that might as well be alien to these people, both metaphorically and literally, but what has he gained? More scars? New ways to end up in an infirmary? A new handgun? A rudimentary understanding of a databank that has no equivalent in his world? What have they given him? What's stopping him from just leaving this rock and going off to find his ticket back home, himself? He's drifted before, the Courier will drift, again. He may not make it out, given the unfamiliar territory… But thinking about that doesn't really bother him.

Nathan had crossed into a different wing of the Watchpoint, trying to figure out where exactly she was. He somehow ended up in a hangar and was trying to find an exit until he overheard something to his left.

"… any idea what DVa's doing with that Bastion unit?" a technician spoke to another technician, the two loitering around a crate.

"No clue," the other technician shook her head. "I just wish she'd invite me to her room sometime. Would make the day much more…"

The technician paused, her face shifting to mild surprise and horror. The engineer she was with looked at her trivially, wondering what was wrong, until he noticed there was a shadow looming over him and turned around to see a tall, bearded man looking down at him with a neutral expression. Though, he suspected that was a façade, given the reputation the tall man had among the rest of the New Overwatch.

"I heard you mention Song," Nathan simply stated with a deadpan look. "Where is she?"

"Umm… Uh-"

"Don't make me repeat myself," the Courier grew impatient, his tone becoming a low rumble.

"DVa uh… erh…"

Nathan's neutral expression was betrayed by the small snarl that grew on his face, followed by the sound of him growling lowly as he stared them down. The poor technician's hearts started to race, his friend cowering behind. He gulped as he pointed somewhere to his left and stuttered, barely intelligible.

"Uh, she's at her-umm-quarters and-umm…"

"Residential wing. Got it."

The Courier turned, leaving the two technicians speechless and scared half-to-death. There was more vigor in his step, now knowing where she went. But as he was about to leave the wing, a figure in a blue jumpsuit suddenly stepped in front of him.

"Hey man, what's wrong-"

"Not now, Manuel," he muttered, already brushing past him.

The Courier's blood still boiled since seeing that empty space on the desk he was sleeping on. The nerve of that little shit to take his belongings while he was asleep. It seemed with every passing day of being stuck here, there always seemed to be something going out of its way to infuriate him to no end. Seemed like a collective of things going out of their way to aggravate him. It became unbearable at times. This isn't the first time he's thought this, and it was starting to get tiring.

He eventually made it to the Residential Wing, the halls familiar to the wanderer as he took a route that was also the same to his room. The Courier just never noticed it being a residence for the others since he's more or less lived the life of a shut-in. He scanned the doors, trying to find some indication of who they belonged to and where Song could be. Where his armor could be. Eventually, he stopped in his tracks as he spotted a door curiously decorated with pink decals and stickers, some of them being a rabbit – her logo. If that wasn't enough, he could hear loud electronic music blaring through the walls, accompanied by a high-pitched giggle that occasionally rang out. Hearing the laughter almost made him feel a tinge of regret. Almost.

The Courier stomped his boots right in front of the door, then brought his hands up and slowly cracked the knuckles on each fist. He twisted his head and made the joints in his neck crack and release tension, before letting out a low growl. He brought his right hand up, balled tightly into a fist, and brought it to slam down on the metal door. But Nathan froze when the door unexpectedly opened.

"Hold on, Bastion!" Hana called back into her room, about to walk out. "I just have to…"

She bumps into something, stumbling back a bit before shaking the hair out of her face and seeing Nathan was at her doorway, casting a surprised glance at her. She returned a similar expression back to him before it morphed into relief.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, smiling up at him. "I was just going to give these back to you."

Nathan looked down, to see his ranger armor and the duster in her hands. It was in a neat, little pile; The cloth was tidily folded and was beneath the armored torso, and on top of that was his helmet, the red-eyes staring up at him. He took it in his hands, a bit apprehensive.

"What were you-"

He looked up, and after his eyes were assaulted by multiple shades of bright pink, green, and blue, Nathan could see through the light and saw something that looked straight out of a chem junkie's dream: Bastion "wearing" some type of pink dress with a matching bow, with mascara over his eye and the outline pink lipstick on his metal faceplate.

" _What the fuck_?" was all he could come up with as it was muttered under his breath.

"He's cute, right?!" Hana asked aloud. "We were having a little photography sesh with the goal of snapping the cutest pictures of him as possible. Or, see what outfit fits him the most. That's why I had your outfit. Or, well, that's why Bastion took your outfit. All accompanied by corresponding lighting and music. Set up by  _moi_ , the fashion genius  _DVa_!"

She jumped back into the room and posed, and upon seeing this, Bastion posed with her and let out a very content whir as he did so. Nathan just stood there, staring, and trying to make sure his jaw didn't fall to the floor. Suddenly, something flew out of the room and landed on his helmet. It was Ganymede, but he immediately noticed something on the yellow bird's chest.

"Is that a…?"

"Yup, I gave Ganymede a little bowtie!" Hana declared with pride. "It was kinda hard finding the materials and putting it all together so it can be on a bird, but I think it looks good. Gan-Gan doesn't seem to mind, do ya'?"

Upon hearing its nickname, the bird twirled and flew over to Hana like a puppy being beckoned to its owner. As soon as it landed on her hand, Ganymede gave a little tune to Song and that caused in a little giggle in her. Nathan dipping his head to the side as he just squinted at the two. Watching as the young woman shook with soft laughter and let out a little squeak of affection, her eyes closed with delight. The man couldn't divert his gaze, and he wasn't sure why. She just seemed so…  _Cheerful_. That's a word he hasn't thought about. In a long time.

His eyes drifted to Bastion, and while the machine wasn't the most emotive individual on the base, he didn't seem to mind essentially being a dress-up doll to Hana. It looked ridiculous, without a doubt, but the big walking war machine couldn't care less. He just seemed to be having fun. Enjoying himself.

"This is a bit much," Nathan admitted, unsure of what to do with what he saw. "I'm just going leave you guys… To it."

"Okay," Hana shrugged. "You sure you don't need them for anything?"

"No, I'm fine, I guess…"

Stepping back the door finally slid close, but Nathan just stood there and stared blankly at the stickers plastered to her door. He then deeply inhaled and exhaled, before bowing his head and shutting his eyes.

"Would you like some tea?"

Nathan twisted around and saw on the opposite side was another room, wide open. Inside was Genji and Zenyatta, who were sitting on the floor next to each other next to a tray that had a teapot and two teacups on a wooden tray. The contents were still steaming.

"No thanks, I'm good."

"I'm sure you are, but some tea could help make you feel well," Genji responded earnestly.

"I think I need some sleep, not tea. Thanks for offerin', though."

With that, Nathan walked away and was out of sight, leaving the Mentor and the Student alone in the room. Genji listened to his heavy footsteps, hearing them becoming increasingly faint until they were merely no more. Then, he heaved a sigh through his mask, before bringing his hands up and pressing buttons on the side of the back of his head.

"That man intrigues me in so many ways, master," the Cyborg Ninja admitted, removing the faceplate to reveal his real, scarred face so he can drink the tea. "Worries me, as well."

"How so?" the Metallic Monk asked, wanting to hear what he had to say, first.

"I sense a lot of emotion within him. Not very pleasant ones."

"I see what you mean. I also sense something within him. While drastic of an assumption, it is very reminiscent of the rage that once consumed you, my student. Though, he has been pleasant to speak to in every opportunity I've had."

"He does a good job at hiding it, but I cannot commend him for doing something like that."

"Of course. You of all people should know that."

" _Hai_ , master."

Genji brought the steaming cup to his mouth and sipped it, still able to feel the sensation of the hot liquid running through his throat. He'd never thought he would cherish such a thing, but having a metal body made him realize many things.

"However, one thing that truly perplexes me about Mr. Brin is how reluctant he is to even tell me anything his home. Where he came from," Zenyatta said, his hand gently clasped together.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Details do leak out from time to time, but accidentally or with a sound of remorse and reluctance. I know he is a stranger to our home, but what is it about his that causes so much imbalance. You wouldn't happen to know, my student?"

"I do," Genji answered, sipping his tea again. "But I'm not sure the details should be said delicately, and I would rather not trouble myself with them when I will venture back home on a mission… With Brin."

Suddenly, they heard laughter and robotic boops across from them, the sound of Hana's antics still purveying the wall. Genji let a smirk crawl up his face as he looked back at his tea. It didn't bother them in the slightest. Why should it?

"And I am sure Hana would, also, if she wants to be ready for the mission."


	36. Error in Judgment

400 kilometers and counting West of Tokyo, Japan

2076

A sleek, cloud-white train shot across a rail at high speeds, weaving through what might as well be a concrete jungle. The city was massive, expansive, and bustling with life. Such traits seemed to be expected for the country it was built in. It wasn't even the largest city, but good luck to anyone foolish enough to travel the entire thing on foot. It was the daytime, but there was no doubt that the municipality could easily blot out the starry night when the time came. However, even with a metropolitan population numbering in the millions, larger than some countries, the inside of the local train was rather quiet and peaceful. Most of the occupants simply taking the public transit for something as mundane as work. Two occupants, however, would be utilizing the fast train for travel. It wasn't entirely for pleasure, but one of them was able to afford first class for them both.

Nathan sat in his seat, his head slumped over with closed eyes, as the train was smooth enough of a ride to not even rock him slightly in his sleep. He was like that for most of the ride, until he felt someone nudge his left side and started to stir himself awake. Groaning, he sat up and began to rub the sleep out of his eyes. His vision clearing, he looked around the cabin to see the sleek, stylish interior of first-class, feeling the fine leather upholstery on his chair.

"You mumble in your sleep."

Nathan looked to his left and saw Hana occupying the window seat, her eyes glued to some type of pink device she held in both her hands. It was like one of those "laptop" computers he's seen, except there were screens on both halves with buttons on the bottom half. The kid was wearing a blue pullover hoodie and a pair of black skinny jeans. The hood draped over her head was accompanied by a blue baseball cap with a logo that looked like a stylized "Z" outlined with the blue and red colors, the word "fighting" in white and stylized below it. Hana made it an effort to conceal herself. Nathan just opted for a shirt and jeans.

"Yeah," he responded, digging his eyes into his palms. "Are we there, yet?"

"Close," she responded, pursing her lips before a pink bubble slowly expanded from her mouth and eventually popped, then going back to chewing.

Brin leaned forward and peered into the window on her side. Everything they passed by was so in a blur, not able to distinguish anything other than the brief flashes of color. Only things in the distance were discernable. He was a bit in awe of how something this large and carrying this many people could move at such a rapid pace, but trains weren't a new concept to him. At least it was very clean and the leather wasn't rotting away for over two centuries. However, things outside started slowing down and he could feel the train's momentum shift, even if it was slight. The train's intercom announced something in Japanese that he obviously didn't understand, but the Korean tourist next to him did.

"We're here," she stated, putting her game device away and getting up from her seat to stretch.

Nathan didn't say a word as he got up from his seat and began to gather their things, hoisting a duffle bag over his shoulder. Hana hoisted a backpack over hers, eyes now glued to her pink phone. When the train finally stopped and opened the doors, all the passengers filed out and onto the station, before walking further into the city. The two eventually found made their way down to the city streets, where the Waster got another glimpse of the dense city life on foot.

'Damn,' he thought, noticing the sheer volume of people all moving about. Many of the buildings grew high to the sky and were covered in a sheer amount of colorful lights, colorful signs, and colorful posters. Streetlights only helped add to the glare, even in the day. The people were as numerous, and milled about this block of the city of their own volition and didn't pay any heed to anything else other than getting to their destination. Well, not entirely, as the six-foot-six man standing on the sidewalk garnered a few looks and glances from pedestrians, as he practically towered over everyone in that block. 'And I stand out like an albino Deathclaw. Great.'

As the Californian stood there, noticing how short the population of Japan seemed, he felt something wrap around his left arm and – slightly shaken – looked down to see it was Hana who had her hand wrapped around his bicep but was still looking down at her phone, nonchalantly.

"What are you doing?" Nathan questioned, glaring at her.

"Someone needs to make sure you don't get lost in the city," Hana responded, not moving her gaze from the phone. "You're used to wandering deserts, but I don't know how you'll handle this."

"I can handle it just fine, kid."

"If you can, then you should know the first rule to being in a city is to not stand idly in the middle of the sidewalk. You know, where all the people are walking on? It's kinda rude."

Just as the Korean explained that intricacy to urban life, someone bumped into Nathan and kept walking away. He couldn't see their face before another person bumped into him again, and he looked to see a crowd going around them in the limited space they had to maneuver. Like a river going around a rock. Some of their expressions didn't seem pleased.

"Fine, I see your point," the wanderer conceded. "Get us the hell out of here."

"With pleasure," she said, a slight smirk crawling on her face as she began tugging on his arm and guide him through the crowd. "I called up a cab, so we shouldn't be here long."

"Great."

As they maneuvered through the sidewalk, slower than he would've liked as the shorter person was the one setting the pace, the Wastelander got to see more of the city. See more of all the people and all the buildings that surrounded him, whether they be shops, hotels, restaurants, or whatever little business found its place on the block. All of them decorated in a colorful fashion, making them stand out from the rest of the concrete. It wasn't dusty like Giza, old like London, or obscenely space-age as Oasis or Numbani. It just felt like a modern city. Or, whatever counted as "modern" here. Not to mention, delightfully clean.

After being dragged a couple of blocks by the kid, certainly showing she was more experienced in the dense city life than he was, they finally reached the cab she had summoned. Putting their luggage in the trunk before filing into the backseat. As they both got in, the driver in the car – an Omnic – turned around to face the two.

" _Doko e_?" the driver asked.

" _Hanamura, dōzo_ ," Hana responded in Japanese.

" _Tashika ni, misu,_ " the driver said, bowing his head slightly before facing the wheel.

The floating car began to pull out from the curb and onto the street. Hana pulled the hood down and took the cap off from her hair, which was tied into a brown bun until she pulled out a tie and let it fall beneath her shoulders. The long-haired brunette let out a breath of relief as she plopped down onto the seat and brought her phone up to her face. Nathan, sitting next to her, made a curious glance at her but didn't say anything else as he looked out onto the window. However, after a silent minute had passed, he decided to open his mouth.

"So, what are we doing once we get there?" the Courier asked, peering to her right.

"Huh?" the Gamer let out, turning to look at him. "You don't know?"

Song frown and sat up from her seat to address him. If there was one thing they didn't need in a mission, it's someone who was unaware of the plan. Crossing her arms over her chest and kept frowning at him. Nathan frowned back.

"What?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You didn't pay attention to the briefing, did you?" Hana questioned, tilting her head at him.

"Maybe. I didn't have my coffee that morning."

The Mech Pilot's eyes rolled back. Afraid something like this was going to happen but should've seen it sooner from him seeing how rogue the Waster could get at times with the rest of Overwatch. Things were simple when people knew what roles to take and how to do them. She learned this in the early days of her gaming career and having it hammered into her head during her time in the MEKA and eventually Overwatch. How else would she succeed on the field, both in the virtual and real world? Certainly, he would know that, right? Or, was he still salty about the uniform thing?

"Well, if you need a refresher, since I know you're getting up there in age…" she said, making the forty-year-old cast a glare at her. "We're going to Hanamura because I have a show there."

"Wait, a show? Like a concert?" Nathan asked, confused at what kind of show she would be at.

"Not exactly like a concert. Like, I do perform in front of a bunch of fans and interact with them, and there is loud music and lights and stuff. But instead of singing, I play games in front of them or with them."

"Wait, games as in  _video games_?"

"Yeah."

"And that's what the concert is? They watch you play games?"

"Yeeaaah…"

"…But why?"

That question surprised the Pro-Gamer, raising an eyebrow at him. Until remembering who she was talking to. Hana barely knew anything about his world even after months of being stuck in the same base with him. Anyone, including her, would just chalk that up to Nathan being a recluse most of the time, but even after a few months, it seemed a bit excessive how closeted he has been in that span of time. Thinking about it, Bastion and Dr. Ziegler were probably the ones with the most knowledge of his home she could talk to. Angela might be a bit reserved about divulging information for Nathan's sake and Bastion was, obviously, lacking in speaking capabilities. Still, it made her wonder if his world was anything like those old Role-Playing game. Hana might be breaking new ground, she hoped.

"Do you not have games where you're from?" Hana asked, with newfound interest and seeing if she was onto something.

"We do, but I've never thought they would warrant a literal audience to watch someone play," Nathan answered honestly about his home.

"What kind of games did you play?" the young woman questioned.

"Just these old holotape games I would play on the terminal when I put the cartridge in them. That was years ago, though. When I was a little kid."

"Wait… Cartridges?!"

Hana's mind started to race as soon as he uttered that word, her head flooding with memories of looking up books and web pages about the infant days of gaming. How big and clunky the earliest systems and the games they played were. How everything was basically a plastic box with art slapped onto it. Stuff that her grandparents or even her  _great-_ grandparents would've enjoyed. Now, as if being ignited with the flame of discovery, she wanted to know more about the industry in his world. To see if the games they played were anything like those pixelated classics. Too bad they still had a mission and Nathan was quick to remind her.

"Yeah…" he confirmed, noting her odd reaction to that word before shaking his head. "Okay, we're getting off topic! So, why specifically are we going to this 'concert' of yours?"

"Oh, uh…" the young agent glances at their taxi driver, careful about what else they were going to say. "Some of the  _people_  that are going to be attending the live event will be people my agency would like to speak to."

"Really? They're into that sort of thing?"

"Uh-huh. A lot of people here are."

"So, can we expect to meet our  _friend_  there, too? Haven't heard back from him in a while."

"He should make it there, fine."

"Yeah…"

The older man slumped back into his seat and took a deep breath in and out, before closing his eyes and feeling himself drift into sleep again. Someone like him would've never known that constantly traveling by air had such a toll. That was probably a benefit to wandering everywhere – not having to constantly adjust his sleeping schedule.

Hana kept staring at him recline into his chair, wondering how she got stuck on a mission with him. Wondering how he pulled off earlier missions if this is what she saw. This was the first time she's been on a mission of this type with him, only ever seeing him in full-on combat. Where things were simpler. The Mech Pilot wondered how the others did it.

"So…" she goes, making the man next to her look. "Is there anything else you can tell me about games from your home?"

Nathan perks an eyebrow at her. Hana has a look in her eyes as if she was genuinely curious about that aspect of his world. Certainly, wasn't the one he was expecting to be asked about by anyone in Overwatch, barring her. It was harmless enough.

"I guess," he responds, closing his eyes again. "Whatch'ya wanna know?"

He didn't see it, but Hana's lips stretched into a slight smile as questions began forming in her head.

More than half-an-hour later, their cab had finally brought them to their destination, finding themselves in the little village of Hanamura. They walked out into the streets of the quaint looking village to reach the destination Hana was mentioning ever since landing in Japan: The Arcade. It wasn't the first arcade he's been inside, but it was the first fully-intact one he was inside. Complete with glowing game-cabinets, neon lights, prize machines, and lots of noise. Though, it was completely empty for some reason, save for the two newest occupants.

"So, this is what it looks like?" Nathan asked largely to himself, walking around the floor of the brightly lit establishment a little nauseated by the flashing displays. "Heh, I doubt Gannon would like this place."

"Hmm?" Hana let out, thinking she heard something familiar.

"Nothing," he quickly dismissed, sitting on a stool at one of the cabinets. "So, we're here. Now what?"

"Now we use this arcade to stage the concert, attract some unknowing bad guys, bag 'em, and save the day!"

She summed up the mission with a prideful tone, smiling ear-to-ear and standing tall, as if this was the best plan anyone could've formulated and that it would go without a hitch. This stellar plan only made Nathan frown more, mainly with how barebones her explanation was – lacking some much-needed elaboration. At least the kid was confident, but he wasn't sure he'd want to give her credit for being headstrong. Had to remind himself that Hana is, literally, less than half his age. Only glad she wasn't a couple of years younger.

"Right," Nathan started, crossing his arms. "And when you're doing your thing, I'm going to be off to the sidelines as a bodyguard…  _Again_ … But, what about Shimada? Where does he fit into all of this? I haven't even seen him since we landed in his home country."

"Good."

That voice echoed above the two, and they looked up to see a collection of green lights hovering two stories above them, close to the huge poster that had Hana in her bodysuit and giving a self-assured wink. The silver silhouette of a Cybernetic Ninja above them.

"You know the best places to host a show, Song," Genji complimented, examining the huge poster.

"Really?!" Hana let out, enthused enough for Nathan to notice her reaction.

"Yes," the Ninja responded sincerely, before jumping down in front of them, light-footed as a cat. "I have many memories here from my misspent youth. It may do some actual good, now, with our presence."

"Where've you been?" Nathan asks, leaning on his knees.

"Keeping an eye on things, at home," Genji explained. "I'm sure you saw the castle with the huge wooden gate in the front, very close to here? That used to be my home."

"Really? Why 'used to'?"

Genji regarded Nathan for a couple of moments before taking the scabbards off his back and resting them against the side of a cabinet

"My clan was a crime family," Genji explained, sitting on a stool. "Profiting off illicit trades and fortunes. I don't want to bore you with a history lesson as we have a job to do, but after my father's passing, the clan elders ordered that I be killed for being a supposed 'liability' to the family business. That is why I am largely metal, today."

"Shit," Nathan swore, his eyes widening slightly. "Sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It's all in the past, and the clan is nothing but a husk of its former self, now."

"Then why are we here? Literally on your home's doorstep."

"As I said, the clan is a husk but the those remaining will do anything in their power to gain the status they once possessed. I believe that there may be something happening back home, but we can't confirm until we have a… Volunteer to tell us."

Wasn't sure why, but Nathan was certain there was a smirk beneath that mask.

"And I know just how to do that!" Hana chimed in, going beside Genji, and leaning against the arcade cabinet. "With the show I've booked, of course!"

"Let's get this underway, then," Nathan said getting from his seat to get to their luggage until he suddenly stopped himself and turned to face Hana with a furrowed brow. "Wait…  _You_ booked this entire venue and that's why it's empty now?"

"Uh, yeah."

"How?"

"With money, what else?"

"How were you able to get that much?"

"I already told you; I'm a Pro-Gamer."

Nathan's face only scrunched up more, previously astonished that such an occupation could exist in this world and astonished again that it could supply enough money to buy out a joint like this. It seemed that every time he tried to gain an understanding he's hit with something that just boggles him to no end. The Wastelander heard a hearty laugh as Genji walked up to him and planted a metal hand on his shoulder.

"I'll explain the 'e-sports' industry, later, Brin," the Japanese Cyborg promised. "For now, we must focus on the task at hand."

* * *

The concert was just like what Nathan had come to expect; There were loud noises, obnoxious lights, and lots of people in the same, cramped space. The venue was smaller than most, but the floor seemed absolutely packed with fans who've come to see "DVa", who stood at the center of a stage in her skintight bodysuit. That suit didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination, anything more and he felt that it was going to devolve into a burlesque show. Well, whatever her fans came for, whether it was her gaming prowess or her questionable choice of clothing, they were loud and wild to see her. And the Courier had to be right up against it, lest he wants anything to happen to the kid.

In a suit, too, so that was great.

" _Annyeong haseyo!_ " DVa greeted in her native tongue, resulting in a huge roar from the crowd and making Nathan wince. At least the aviators did more than protecting his eyes from the neon lights.

"Christ, she really knows how to rile a crowd…" he muttered under his breath, barely able to hear his own words. "How the hell are we going to spot anyone here?"

"You'll see them," Genji called out over the mic, unseen and barely audible. "Trust me."

"Pretty sure I do. There's still a fuckload of people, though."

His eyes scanned over the crowds, seeing all their faces, and trying to spot anyone who looked out of place. Humans, Omnics. Men, Women. Young, and even Old. It was a pretty varied gathering in this group. There was even a good batch of foreigners mixing in with the locals, apparently coming from far away to see the Mech Pilot. This entire event becoming more of a culture shock the longer it went on. Then, as he kept watch over the crowd - his vision largely flooded in the constant sporadic neon, his hearing barraged by both the cheering and music – he spotted a not so colorful patch on the floor. Where the attendees wore bright and colorful clothing, there was a group of men just to the side huddled next to each other in uniform black and white suits. They seemed interested in what was happening on stage, some of them relaxing with drinks and smokes, one of them letting their coat lazily dangle over a shoulder. They looked like proper thugs, well-dressed for an occasion like this.

"Shimada, I think I've spotted someone," Nathan spoke into an earpiece. "A couple of men, well-dressed. Minding their business. Thoughts?"

"Hmm," Genji mulled into his ear. "Yes. Good eye, my friend."

"It's kinda hard to not notice something so obvious. Now what?"

"Hana… Your turn."

As soon as she heard those words in her ear, a devilish smirk stretched the pink war paint on her cheeks. With the mic in her hand, she cleared her throat before spotting the group of men in suits and pointing at them with one arm. As loudly as she could, DVa called to them, surprising the group of men as they looked at her and made the rest of the crowd look at what she was pointing at, unsure of what was happening. They were clueless, exchanging glances with each other.

"Yeah, you three!" Hana exclaimed, her hand beckoning them to the stage. "Let's play a game. Me against you three! Winner gets a prize from yours truly. How about it?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow at her, looking at the group of men to see they were discussing the challenge with each other. They deliberated for a few more moments, but Hana's voice echoed from the speaker's again.

"Aww, is someone chicken?" she mocked, her grin stretching even more.

Two of them men frowned at what she said while the third started laughing and pointing fingers at his colleagues. After a bit more arguing, they all collectively shrugged and walked towards the stage while crowd parted and cheered. Once they reached the stage, they went up with sheepish smiles as the Gamer began leading them to a set of arcade cabinets that were set up on the stage. One pink cabinet set up parallel to two blue ones.

"This will be a simple game," DVa began explaining as she sat at her spot, trying her hardest to not smug. "Whoever gets eliminated loses. You can have your buddy tag in if things get a bit intense for you. Everything understood?"

The three thugs looked at each other, excited but apprehensive as two of them took seats and the third stood by for moral support and coaching. Nathan could tell how this'll end.

A huge screen above the stage flashed and showed the audience the screen of their game, which opened with a styled and fiery title card, "Fighters of the Storm". It loaded in, quickly going into a match and the players selecting the characters. The style and graphics of the game reminded Nathan of the games he used to play, but not nearly as detailed or colorful. Not only were the looks flashy, but the sound that played through the speakers was nearly as boisterous. Enough to make the crowd go wild once the first note of the catchy tune played. The Pro-Gamer chose a woman who had tendrils of hair and insect-like protrusions for wings. The two opponents chose a hooded being in white robes and a huge, muscled creature that reminded the Waster of a Super-Mutant but was red. They chose the setting, both teams starting on either side, and a countdown appeared starting from "3". The crowd started chanting, and Nathan looked at Hana to see her grin hadn't faltered. She saw Nathan and winked. He huffed in amusement.

"FIGHT!"

What happened next was… Well, he wasn't too sure what the hell just happened. He only saw a series of flashes and lights, the characters moving faster than he could keep up. It just looked like a pixelated firework just blew up in everyone's face. The crowd cheered with every punch, kick, block, and grunt from onscreen, and Nathan looked to see the gang members yelling at each other and screaming, the third member looking on in horror, while the kid held the calm but focused gaze on her screen. Her hands manipulating the buttons and joystick as well as his hand operates his M1911; Very well and very fast. It was only a couple more seconds until both of her contestants were done for, their characters collapsing to the digital ground, digital dust being kicked up. Hana's fighter left standing. The crowd cheered, and the men slumped their heads in defeat. Hana just kept smiling and peered from the cabinet.

"Best two out of three?" she asked, feigning a tone of innocence.

Against their better judgments and most likely to save face, they accepted. The second fight went just as expected, except it was even shorter somehow and the help of a third player didn't tip the odds in their favor in the slightest. As the cheering slowly became background noise for him, Nathan found himself somewhat impressed. Even though this was in a game. As the suited men hung their heads low in defeat, their adversary sauntered over to them and leaned against one of their cabinets.

"Aww, sorry about that guys!" she apologized, but unable to wipe the shit-eating grin on her face. "Though, I might have something for you backstage for all your troubles."

They lifted their heads at the same time, raising their eyebrows at what she said. Hana giggled before getting off the cabinet and gesturing for them to follow her, in a very suggestive manner. The misled men's curiosity only grew exponentially from there.

"So… Come on, boys," she let out in a seductive tone.

'You've gotta be shitting me here…,' Nathan immediately caught on to what she was doing, but it seemed to be working. Either a credit to her abilities or a testament to how stupid aroused men can be. 'Really?!  _That_  is how she does it?! And it's working?!'

For a split second, she looked to Nathan and jerked her head to signal to follow, and he did, following the group backstage and leaving the loud crowd behind, for now. Walking further into the back of the arcade, the Waster was behind the group and noticed how Hana kept strutting as if to further bait the men she was leading. Didn't help that skinsuit outlined her ass. He never liked jumpsuits for that reason. Just felt like another thin layer of skin.

As she looked over her shoulder, flipping her hair to cast a set of faux dreamy eyes, luring the men into a false sense of security and almost making Brin's eyes roll out of his socket – something fell from the ceiling in a green blur and landed on the middleman, surprising the other two. Immediately, Nathan grabbed the man in the back and slammed his head against the wall, knocking him to the floor. He bent down and delivered a few more taps to make sure he was down, and got up to deal with the last gang member before he stopped and saw he was already being taken care of… By Song.

The Waster watched as she, nimble as she was, held onto the man's arms before jumping up and flipping herself so that her legs wrapped around his neck. Then, using her momentum, she swung and knocked the man to the ground before delivering solid punches down onto his head. Knocking him unconscious, she jumped up to see Nathan looking at her in surprise.

"You can fight like that?" the tall man asks, genuinely impressed for once.

"Yeah," the Korean Mech Pilot answers, brushing a loose bang of hair from her forehead. "What? You think I was in the Korean Army for nothing?"

"Not now, I guess. So, we have our guys? What's next?"

"Return to the concert and entertain the crowd," Genji explained, rising from the floor. "I will handle our new guests and tell you what I will learn when the concert is done."

"You sure you don't need any help interrogating these guys?"

"I am fine, Brin. Besides, aren't you enjoying the show? I know I was."

Hana's face lit up when she heard Genji speak highly of her performance. Meanwhile, Nathan grimaced slightly at the thought of having to go back to the lights and loud cheering, even though this event was more on the bearable end. The Cybernetic Ninja just chuckled and put a reassuring hand on her his shoulder.

"You really should open up more, Nathan," Genji advised, addressing the Waster with the green glowing line of his mask. "Literally a world of new experiences for you to see."

"Oh, I've had plenty of new experiences, Shimada. Not sure I'd suggest them to any of my friends."

"Well, this one is suggesting. Go on, try to enjoy yourself! I'll finish from here."

* * *

_A few hours later…_

The "DVa live experience" held at the Hanamura arcade had finally ended after a few, grueling, energetic hours. It was already past midnight when the last of the attendees were filing out of the arcade and going home to rest for the day.

However, there were a few stragglers left as they used what little time they had to interact with DVa. Chat with her, joke with her, and take those "selfie" photos with her. It took a good hour or two after the main event had ended for the celebrity to get through all the fans who stayed. Which were most of them. Meanwhile, Nathan stood to the side, watching them. A little exhausted, the Waster ditched the suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. The Japanese night air was a bit chilly for someone who's spent most of his life in the desert, but it wasn't enough to bother him. After a flash from a camera phone illuminated the sidewalk, he saw Hana give a fan one final hug before separating from them and leaving them in a state of fervor when they staggered away.

"You done?" Nathan asked.

"Yup!" Hana responded, beaming as she walked up to him.

"Finally. We need to get back inside. Shimada might have something for us."

"I was thinking about getting some food, first. We haven't eaten anything since coming here."

"Food can wait, kid. Let's just see if Genji has anything for us."

"I just texted Genji and he says he's still busy with them. So, we don't really have anything else to do."

"Really, then? I assume the word 'texted' has something to do with your mobile phone?"

"Uh…yeah," the Korean confirmed, astounded that he still didn't know that. "Wow, you really don't know anything about this world, don't you?"

"I'm not proud of it, kid."

She frowned at that response. Then, an orange light flashed off her face and she looked up to her left to spot the source. Her features instantly lit up when she saw what it was. Nathan looked up, too, and immediately saw a huge sign of a froglike creature in a flying saucer and two mechanical hands holding chopsticks and a plate of food. Before he could even ask what the creature was supposed to be, he felt his arm being pulled towards the building donning it.

"I know what will cheer you up!" Hana exclaimed, tugging hard. "Come on!"

"Woah, okay!" Nathan gave in.

Seconds later, being dragged into the establishment, Nathan was immediately greeted by the mild scent of food and steaming water. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw they were in a humble, compact restaurant in the building with a small section cornered off with what had to be the most cramped kitchen in the world. Above the kitchen were glowing menu signs and it was all attended by an older gentleman in white. The cook looked up, and his wrinkled features wrinkled further as he addressed the two new patrons.

" _Kon'nichiwa!_ " the old cook greeted, bowing his head for a second. " _Nani ni shimasu ka?_ "

" _Rāmen, onegai!_ " Hana said, taking a glance at Nathan behind her, then holding up two fingers. " _Watashitachi no tame ni._ "

As Hana ordered, Nathan looked around the small restaurant and thought it was a pretty decent establishment, aesthetic wise. Nothing too fancy, or stylish. Just a simple to place go in and get some food. Smelled clean, too. Was almost like a bar lacking the alcohol but he could make do. Quickly pulling out his Vault 13 canteen from a pocket and taking a sip before putting it back.

Then, Hana came up to him, holding two steaming bowls and setting them along the counter on the wall. Nathan took a seat next to her, the stool squeaking under his weight. Then, a bowl was slid before him, along with a set of utensils. The smell of the soup hit him, first. It was a bowl of noodles in a golden-brown broth, topped with a series of chopped greens, sliced meat, and a section of a boiled egg. The Waster's mouth instantly began to water.

"We call that 'ramen'," Hana declared, feeling prideful for helping to culturally enrich the Californian Wastelander. "And we eat it with these chopsticks. We use it like thi-"

A series of slurping noises interrupted her, and she looked to see Nathan sucking in gulps of ramen, using the set of chopsticks very proficiently. When he took one more gulp of the soup before swallowing, he bumped his chest twice to let out a satisfied burp.

"Man, that was good," Nathan said, going in for more. "Sorry, kid, what were you saying?"

"You know how to use chopsticks?" Hana questioned, almost stunned.

"What? These?" he held up the two sticks, clacking them like a claw. "Yeah. We have noodles where I'm from, so I know how to use 'em. Didn't know noodles were a Japanese thing, too."

He went back to the ramen and started lapping up more noodles, the Korean watched him with a sense of curiosity. Eventually, her features lightened and she shrugged, snapping her utensil into two sticks and delving into the soup. Nathan was completely affixed to his bowl of ramen, eating it almost voraciously. Hana ate hers, but was quieter and not nearly as fast. She made occasional glances to the man next to her but tried to stay focused on her meal. They ate in relative silence for the next few minutes, until Hana spoke up, again.

"So, where did you learn to use chopsticks?" she asked, curious about his travels.

"San Francisco," the Californian answered. "The remains of it, I mean."

"What was it like there?"

"It was…A decent place to visit. Kinda weird, but the people there are bearable. They mostly kept themselves to what used to be old 'Chinatown'. I guess it still is a Chinatown, given who lives there."

"Are they a part of the… 'NCR' you're from?"

Nathan chuckled, spilling broth onto the counter. Shaking his head, he said, "No. Not yet, at least. NCR's been getting increasingly intimate with them. Practically surrounding the entire city on all sides. They haven't been annexed, last time I checked, but I doubt the  _Shi_  will have much breathing room left if fuckin' Kimball has anything to say about it."

"Who?"

"Eh, don't let this Tribal bore you with politics, kid. I don't know how it's like here, but politics in the Wasteland ain't something you want to get into."

The Courier glanced at his hand, seeing the scars ridden across the back.

"So, where'd you get those?" Song then asked, looking at the scars on his hands. The Courier cast a look at her, his eyes narrowed, and it seemed she may have crossed a line as she regarded him. However, he sighed and rubbed the skin on his hands.

"Utah," was all he said.

Before she could further enquire about what that meant, they heard someone clearing their throat behind them. Turning on their stools, they looked and saw there were now seven more occupants inside of the cramped restaurant, dressed in matching suits like the men they bagged at the arcade. Some of them brandished weapons - swords and knives. Two of them were Omnics, also dressed in matching outfits, and with a strange design for their faceplates – more porcelain in appearance. One of them had horns like a Deathclaw. The cook was behind them, his face ridden with terror as he cowers behind a counter.

"How the fuck did we not notice you guys?" Nathan questioned, looking at them and wondering how they got there.

"Come with us, or we'll force you," the suited man in the middle demanded, pointing a katana at him.

Nathan let out a disgruntled moan, throwing his head back.

"Awww, we're playing this game. Great."

"You guys going to try something?!" Hana goaded, putting on her war face. "Do it!"

"Kid," Nathan intervened, holding an arm out. "If we're going to beat the shit out of all of them, mocking them will only pump them up and make it harder to knock 'em down."

"What?"

"Anger makes an idiot more resilient, for some reason. It's something I've noticed, and it probably applies here. For the fleshy ones."

The men in suits started looking at each other, confused and trying to figure out why there were still conversing casually. The man in the middle grew more livid and pointed the sword at them, again.

"Enough of this nonsense!" he yelled, the katana glinting in the light. "Surrender now!"

Nathan looked at him, unamused. Then, turned on his stool and looked back at his ramen.

"It's still hot."

"Wha-?"

They didn't have time to react as Nathan grabbed the bowl of soup and threw it at the suit at his far-left, making him scream and claw at his face from the hot water. A gang member on the right charged Hana but was knocked out as a ceramic bowl flying at high speeds flew into his face and shattered. Two already down and out.

The remaining five charged the two, two Omnics and a man going for Nathan while the remaining thugs charged Hana. Trying to punch the tall human, an Omnic swung at him but missed and had large meaty hands wrap around his neck before being thrown against the wall and leaving a dent. The other Omnic grabbed onto Nathan, trying to choke him from behind, but the machine was thrown off and onto the floor. The metal body cracking the floor, the thug tried to get up but was picked up and had his faceplate slammed against the counter at an angle, resulting in a sizable dent, cracked blue lights, and a fizzle of electricity. Letting him go, the Waster turned and faced the leader, the one who kept pointing the sword at him. With a scream, the katana-wielding suit rushed at him, swinging the blade down. Sidestepping it, Nathan grabbed his arm by the wrist and twisted it, resulting in something cracking and the man screaming as he let go of the katana. Still holding him by the cuff, he grabbed the sword and rose it high to strike down on the man but something cold and metallic latched onto him and began punching him in the back. Feeling like lead balls were hitting him in the spine, he let go of the sword and twisted around to punch the offender – the Omnic that swung at him – in the faceplate. The human then moaned in pain from the decision he just made but sent the machine reeling as it lost balance. Seizing the opportunity, the large human grabbed the Omnic by the leg and threw him against a different wall this time. He starts cracking with electricity and his body whirred loudly, struggling to get up, before something grabbed his faceplate and began repeatedly slamming his head against the wall. The machine not even strong enough to free himself from this grasp, powerless to do until the mechanical limbs flopped and the porcelain shell shattered. With one final smash, Nathan bounced the Omnic's head against the hard floor and stands back up. Hearing fighting behind, he turns to see Hana, being grabbed from behind by one suit while another tries to attack from the front but is being kept away by her legs. He walks over and grabs the front attacker, punching him in the gut before slamming his head onto the wall counter, hard enough to shake all the plates and bowl that were on it and leaving a blood imprint on it. Seeing this, Hana elbows her captor in the gut and is released, then spinning and delivering a high kick into the thug's face. Dazed but still conscious, the Korean then delivered another kick, sending him to the floor and staying there. Hana stands back, breathing heavily as she looks down at their handiwork, men and machines writhing in pain and in pools of their respective bodily fluids.

"Good job," Nathan said, cracking his knuckles and smiling a little. "You actually have something in you."

"Ummm…" Hana let out, pointing at something behind him.

He turned around and saw it was the sword-wielding idiot, still standing. Nathan thought he was going to stomp his head on the curb until a loud bang echoed throughout the tiny sent the suited swordsman collapsing to the floor. Behind was the old cook, holding an iron pan in his hands. Both Nathan and Hana were surprised but welcomed the act of bravery.

"Thanks, old man," he expressed, gracious for the assistance.

The cook looked up at him and smiled, pointing at the tall man before holding one thumb up then exclaiming in very broken English, "American big cheese!"

The New Californian's smile immediately vanished as there was giggling behind him. However, before they could do anything else an electronic noise hummed near them. It was Hana's pink phone, on the counter behind them. The owner picked it up and turned on the screen, her face then contorting as she read what was on it.

"What is it?" Nathan asked.

"It's Genji," she said, her eyes darting over the message. "He's saying he's already gone to Shimada castle. Saying that we should wait for him until he's back."

"What?!" he exclaimed, staring at her and her phone wide-eyed. "Why?!"

"I don't know. He texted me half-an-hour, ago… Ugh, I had silent mode on!"

Nathan got closer, his expression growing with concern.

"There's more," Hana said, her face contorting more in confusion as she kept reading. "He's said that it's his turn now and that we both did a good job."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

The Mech Pilot shrugged, clueless as to what that meant, as well. Nathan knew something was off and felt that was rather unlike the Shimada Ninja to just dash off like that. Only notifying them with a "text", and right around the same time some goons jump them. He dashed off to the outside.

"Hey, where are you going?" Song yelled at him, making him stop in the doorway.

"See, what the hell's he's up to," Brin said, looking from the doorway to see the big wooden wall in the street, not even thirty meters away.

"At least let me come with you!"

"No," he sternly declined. "Even if you're not in your pink tank, I don't want you messing anything up. I need to be quiet about this. Get this all sorted out and get back inside, I'll deal with this."

"But-!"

" _Stay here_."

He left, heading in the opposite direction of the castle and towards the arcade to retrieve his gear. As he did so, he brought his canteen out and the contents into his mouth. The burning sensation in his throat distracting him from the numbing pain in his hand.

* * *

All armored up, the Courier walked along the empty, paved road and towards that large wooden gate of the castle. He spotted the engraved symbol of the twin dragons, encircling each other. There was a set of chain holding a large plank of wood. Tugging on it, he knew there would be no way of getting these off without some tools and noise. Looking back up at the dragons, he noticed grooves and indentations deep enough for his fingers. Slinging All-American, he flipped on his red-eyes and began to scale the wooden gate, slowly inching his way until he was on the other side. With a thud, his boots thumped across a wooden surface and he rocketed up with his rifle to find himself transplanted back in time to feudal Japan, with ancient architecture and neatly kept gardens. And a dead body on the wooden floor. A castle guard, and judging from the slash, Genji's work.

'Why're you heading off alone, Shimada?' his questioned silently, rubbing a stain of blood between his fingers.

Nathan slowly walked out into the courtyard, his boots breaking the wave-like pattern of stone pebbles that surrounded the large rock erected in the middle. With his helmet's lowlight vision, his eyes scanned over the structures surrounding him. Caring little for the feudal Japanese architecture as he watched for all the corners. He was sure the Ninja was capable, but he was in enemy territory now and he had to find where he went. Gripping the carbine tightly, his trigger finger mere centimeters away from the trigger. Making his way to the structure housing the large bell, he received a transmission through his helmet.

"Nathan, where are you?" Hana called out over the radio.

"In the castle," he responded, still scanning the roofs. "Trying to find him. I'll update when I do."

"Are you sure you don't need me there? I can help!"

"Appreciate the gesture but I don't need a pink tank for an infiltration mission. Just stay put, kid."

Nathan released his hand from the radio and kept walking. Everything was quiet, nothing but howling wind and peeping crickets in the distance. There were more bodies, and it felt eerie walking around in the dead silence. However, he saw something on the floor shine in the little light there was and bent down to look at it. It was an arrow, but it was made with high-end materials. The shaft was of a metal-polymer composite with plastic fins, and the tip was a shiny, serrated alloy with blue accents.

'People still use arrows?' the New Californian questioned, examining the projectile. 'Not even tribals stick with this shit.'

Before he could inspect further, he stopped himself as he saw a ray of moonlight shudder over him and heard rope stretching, instantly twisting to fire off a shot of his rifle at a shadowy figure. However, he couldn't get a shot off as his eyes grew wide and he ducked to narrowly avoid an arrow. He rocketed up and fired a burst in the general direction of the attack as he now ran to the bell tower and took cover by the left wall of the entrance. Back against the wooden wall, he peers out into the courtyard and sees nothing but the glint of an arrow stuck in a rock but notices there were other bits of metal stuck to the arrow or on the floor beneath it. The Courier brought a hand up to his head and could feel the arrow had struck the right side of his helm, damaging it. Both his lowlight vision and the radio were out of commission. Leaving him blind in the dark and severing his connection with the others.

"Fuck!" he cursed under his breath.

Then in the upper left corner of his eyes, he saw movement and snapped his head to see a figure standing in an opening above him. Another glint flew at him, but he rolled out of the way and returned fire. However, the archer was gone again, moving swiftly out of the Courier's line of sight. Nathan tried to listen for any footfalls but could only hear foreboding silence. He could see nothing either and wondered how they were able to get high up to so fast and so quietly. Getting around as if they knew the place inside and out. This person wasn't just a thug. They were good, but their choice of weapon only further confused him. Advanced tactics yet obsolete weaponry. Wasn't sure why, but it reminded him of Genji.

There was an opening to the right of him, close to another building with cover and a stairwell inside. Checking to see if the coast was clear, first, the Courier got up and sprinted as fast as he could. As he was out into the open, even for the mere seconds he was, a set of arrows rained on him. One of them managing to rip the withered duster before it splintered into the wooden floor. Now inside the other building, Nathan twisted with his rifle and faced the doorway as he backed up to the stairwell. His boots slowly thumped against the wood, hearing it creak with every step. Finally seeing the stairwell in his peripheral vision, he turned to climb it but stopped as there was someone at the top of it. He could only catch a glance at what the archer looked like until he was forced to duck down to evade another arrow by centimeters. All-American rocked with every shot, his target narrowly dodging bullets as he started running in the opposite direction. The Courier gave chase, climbing the stairs to the second floor and watching through the scope his target running across the catwalk before jumping down to the ground. He ran over to the catwalk and leveled his rifle to the open ground to see no one there.

'Jesus, he's fucking slippery!' he noted about the assassin.

Across the catwalk was the entrance to another building, so he ran through and walked down two sets of stairs to be back outside on the castle grounds. Nathan was closer to the castle itself, running into a yard with trees with pink leaves. The sight of little pink petals falling to the ground would be a tranquil sight on a normal day, one without having to be stuck with a foot-long piece of a steel and polymer. The Waster kept one eye trained on the ground and another trained on the sky, fully aware his opponent was capable of traversing both.

As he walked under the falling leaves of one of the cherry blossoms, he saw a glint of blue in the moonlight, instantly pivoting his rifle and rapid firing into a balcony in his upper left. About to empty the magazine, he strode into the cover of a little hut in the middle of the courtyard to reload. However, as he rummaged for a fresh mag, an arrow shot into the hut he was in, but unlike the ones before, this arrow separated into several parts and began ricocheting around the enclosed space glowing bright blue. The Courier crouched and held up his Pip-Boy arm to shield his face, wincing every time he heard something bounces very close to him. Suddenly, he grimaced and groaned under his mask as he felt pain suddenly surging in his left hand. After the ricochets subsided, he opened his eyes to immediately see a metal fragment poking through the palm of his left hand and the side of his right thigh, blood dripping through the torn glove from the wound. Before he could even try to mend it, someone came into view of the doorway and he barely had time to dodge another incoming arrow and watching the tip embed itself into the wood behind him. He turned forward but was hit upside his head by something and felt blows land on his chest before having a leg swiped and making him fall to one knee. The attacker was about to deliver another strike onto the Courier but was blocked by his left forearm before a hand shot up and grabbed the attacker by the throat, hurling them to the wall.

Now properly face-to-face with the archer, Nathan saw it was a man with black, greying hair, shaved at the sides, a short beard around his mouth. The Archer wore a black coat with pockets over it and dark pair cargo pants. There was a blue sling over his coat holding his quiver that had colored buttons and a little Japanese flag stuck to it. Curiously, he had a set of metal piercings at the top of his nose bridge and an earring on the right ear. Nathan couldn't examine anymore features as the Archer, with fury in his eyes, was able to kick him away with both feet and sent him staggering back into the other wall. He pulled out his sidearm and started firing at the Archer, who rolled and evaded the gunfire. The Courier kept firing as he ran up to the doorway and shot at him until the assassin traversed a corner under a bridge and was now out of sight. Ejecting the magazine, the armored man went to grab a fresh one but felt a tinge of pain and looked down to see the sliver of metal was still there. Without a second thought, he grabbed his helmet and pulled it up to expose his mouth before reaching down and biting down on the metal dart. In one swift movement, he yanked it out of his hand and felt a pain rocket up his arm to his spine as the flesh around his palm tore. Blood began seeping out from the wound and he could feel some of his blood staining his mouth before he spat the fragment out and covered his face with the black mask. He then grabbed the fragment in his right thigh and pulled it out with a sickening squelch, before producing a Stimpak and stabbing the wound with it. Grabbing another magazine and shoving the blood-soaked box into his sidearm before running out of the hut and into a doorway that was adjacent to the underpass the Archer went through.

Pulling out his carbine, he leveled his muzzle as he walked out into another part of the castle grounds, this time a training yard filled with targets and weapons. There were no signs of life as he walked out further into the yard. The air still deathly silent. But as he walked by a tree an arrow flew from above and nearly struck him in the side but stuck his duster to the bark of the tree. He raised his gun up, but it was kicked out from his hands and onto the dirt, the strap cut by the same arrow that pinned his duster. The assassin fell right in front of him and was about to let the string of his bow loose again until the Courier swiped his left hand and bounced the arrow away with the hard case of his Pip-Boy. He then grabbed the man and pulled him towards himself to make his fist contact his face, knocking him to the ground from that one blow. Pulling out the arrow from his duster, the man in black armor was about to plunge the arrowhead into its owner but missed as the Archer rolled away, making him plant it into the dirt. Standing up and pulling another arrow from his quiver, he was about to take aim but was too late as the larger man had already reached him and swiped the bow away before delivering an uppercut into his gut. Upon contact, the Archer instantly felt his insides quake and air vacate his lungs. He tried to counter by grabbing the Courier's arm and twisting it clockwise. That only elicited a slight moan of pain, before Nathan kicked the man away with one leg. Pulling out the SIG, he was going to take aim, but the pistol was knocked out of his hand by another arrow. Now baring teeth under his helmet, he looked in front to see the man quickly recovered with the bow drawn and an arrow ready to be fired. The Courier glared daggers at the Archer as he pulled out his combat knife and swung the blade underhand.

"You're really starting to piss me off," he growled lowly as he gained stance.

"Hmph," the Archer let out, before speaking in a deep, somewhat gravelly voice, narrowing his eyes further. "I do what I must. Especially with your kind."

The Japanese Archer understood what he said. Good.

Without warning, the Courier charged forward like a hound, and the man fired the arrow but sent it on a diagonal course towards his target. He ducked, feeling the arrowhead grind against the back of his head but still charging. Another arrow flew, and he swiped it away with the Pip-Boy case. The third arrow ripped a hole in the duster, barely missing his wide torso. Nearly closing the gap, the fourth flew the shortest of them and was successful in hitting its target, embedding itself into the shoulder of the armored man. But it made little difference as Nathan closed the distance and started swiping the blade, the Archer barely avoiding the attacks as he was pushed closer to the wall. Trying to find any opportunity he can, the Archer sidestepped to the left of a swipe and grabbed his arm, but received a hard jab to his face that dazed him. The blade then was swiped across his chest, resulting in the strap being cut and the quiver now loose. Seeing this, Nathan grabbed the quiver and flung it over the railing and down below with the arrows resting in it. The Archer went wide-eyed for a second before blocking an oncoming blade with his bow. The two now began to exchange blows and swipes, their weapons sparking with every moment of contact. The Archer was quick and careful, expertly blocking and parrying every swipe from the Courier, but he felt every blow rattled his bones, his opponent clearly not holding back. Even for his size and bulk, the strength being displayed wasn't normal, but the Archer didn't have time to think about the implications as he tried to save his skin from being carved. In one fell swoop, he caught the blade in between the parts of his bow and twisted it, slipping it from his opponent's hand and casting it to the side. However, he felt two large hands grab his bow before a powerful kick sent him reeling back. He peered up as he landed on his feet, but something swung at his face and sent him onto his back. A boot came into his view and he swiftly rolled to the side and got to his feet to face the man in black armor, his tattered coat now swishing in the wind. They both only had their fists, the Archer taking up a stance while the Courier just stared at him with the red lenses.

With a yell, the Archer charged forward with his fist, but it was blocked as his opponent wrapped his arm around his and grabbed his neck from behind. Holding him in a vice, the Courier delivered powerful punches into his torso, feeling something crack, before grabbing his neck and slamming his face into his knee. Let go, the Archer stumbled back and balanced against a tree, dazed, his face now bruised and bleeding. He barely had time to react as the large man grabbed him by the throat and began pummeling him in the side of his head, rattling his brain and distorting his vision with every punch. Watching those red-eyes hover over him. He then kicked his leg out from under him, offsetting the taller man's balance before grabbing him and throwing him off himself. He scrambled to find his bow or any weapon to help. Fortunately, he saw his bow lying in the grass a few meters away and dashed after it. It was futile as he was grabbed by the coat and flung the stone wall with such force that pain waved through his entire body. Collapsing to the floor on his face, he turned his head and his eyes widened as he a saw his opponent's blade just a meter away from him. He reached out to it, his fingertips just grazing the hilt, but screamed in pain as a heavy boot stomped down onto his hand, feeling the bones fracture in his flesh. A bloody, gloved hand shot down and grabbed him by the wrist as the boot stepped off, but the hand tugged as the boot then planted itself on his back and he screamed in more pain as he felt his shoulder pop.

"Broken ribs, a fractured jaw, a broken hand, and a dislocated shoulder," the man standing above him listed the injuries he's inflicted, so far, snarling under his helmet and seething. "Let's see how else you  _fucked up_."

Bending down and grabbing the Archer by a flap on his coat and his belt, the Courier gritted his teeth and let out an animalistic roar as he picked the man up high in the air before sending him crashing down onto a set of nearby wooden crates, splintering the two boxes into a million wooden fragments and kicking up dust everywhere. Finally, the Japanese Archer was out of commission, Nathan standing over him and breathing heavily. He looked to his left and saw the shaft of the arrow still embedded into his skin. He grabbed it, shaking and wincing before he snapped it. Still holding the rest of the shaft, he bent down and grabbed the unconscious man, dragging him out onto the grass. Kneeling on top of him, he grabbed his face by the chin and pivoted it up to his face as he raised the broken arrow. However, the man below him began to stir, and his eyes slowly opened and look to see the black armor hovering over him.

"Do it," the Archer rasped out, blood spilling out of his mouth.

"Gladly," the Courier coldly responded.

His hand descended, bringing the broken arrow with. In that instant, the man below him already accepted his fate and closed his eyes to wait for it to be over. But without warning, a flash of green cast over them and the man looked to see the broken shaft hovering mere centimeters from his eye, the glint of metal halting his would-be killer's arm. Nathan tried to look but was kicked away, rolling to the side. Quickly standing up, he looked to see Genji standing between him and the broken man, his short blade drawn and at the ready. Nathan huffed in disbelief.

"Shimada, what the fuck are you doing?!" he questioned, enraged that his kill was taken from him.

"Making sure you don't kill my brother," the Ninja calmly answered.

"…What?!"

After he said that, Genji began to ease his stance and slowly slid his blade back into the scabbard on his hip, the sound of it snapping shut echoing throughout the yard. Then, he knelt and faced the man he proclaimed to be his brother, but he was out cold. Nathan approached the two, barely able to believe what he just heard as he looked down at the two men. One metal and one flesh. One alive and functional, the other nearly beaten to death.

"But… he shot at me," he barked, now willing to cease hostility. "With his fucking arrows!"

"That may be so, but there must be a reason he would make such a decision," the metal brother responded, planting a hand on his brother's chest. "I know him. He wouldn't make such a decision lightly. He was the one who informed me of the transgressions, here in our home. Though, I didn't expect to see him here."

Nathan's eyes hovered to the stump protruding from his bleeding shoulder, before looking back at the Archer. If what Genji said was true, then there would be another case of family bullshit for him to deal with. The prospect was enough to make him more tired than the fight before did. He already knew he wasn't going to like the prick, even if he was the Cyborg-Ninja's brother.

"But what are you doing here?" Genji questioned, staring up at him with his green visor.

"I came to check on you," Nathan answered. "We saw your 'text', but Song and I were jumped by a couple goons and we were afraid something happened… I sure as hell didn't count on your brother being here."

"Well, now, we must gather our things and leave," the Ninja responded, picking his brother up. "Tell Winston that our mission here is done and we're coming home. With one more passenger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the Japanese is inaccurate. I can only do so much with Google Translate. ._.


	37. The Lesson from Zion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised on the 25th of February 2018 & 18th of March for lore purposes.

The Gym, Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe

2076

Despite being one of the smaller sections, the gym was one of the busier sections of the base. Before, Overwatch practically required for all its members to be in peak physical condition, even if certain individuals were not specifically assigned to combat roles. This would come to be realized as a condition where everyone benefits since there wasn't any harm to physical improvement - other than aching muscles and maybe a slight urge to vomit - and the organization would have nothing but fit individuals in its ranks. Although it had been years since it had been dissolved, many of its members would carry on the strenuous and laborious fitness traditions in its wake. However, one frequent visitor to this gym wasn't an original Overwatch member but saw fit to keep the traditions just the same. A tradition she kept since the Egyptian Military and Helix.

Fareeha Amari sat up straight on one of the benches as she curled her forearms towards her body carrying a set of forty-kilogram dumbbells, one after the other in a repetitious cycle at a constant tempo. She lets out of breath of air with every flex, feeling the muscles in her bicep and shoulders stretch and burn the longer she went on in this set. Drops of sweat drip off her head and coat her skin. Her eyes glued to the large mirror wall in front of her, seeing herself dressed in a pair of black, gym leggings, a blue tank top over her tight sports bra, and her hair tied into a short ponytail to reveal a set of earbuds embedded in her ears. Hearing an ensemble of very hard rock music assaulting her eardrums. As she listened to an electronic guitar get strummed a couple hundred times a minute, Fareeha finished her last set of bicep curls, having lifted both arms a hundred times each and feeling them with an ache she very much welcomed. With one last curl of her arm, the Amari stopped and placed the weights down onto the mat-floor, getting up and stretching her arms over her shoulders to ease the toned and chiseled muscles. After stretching both, she then picked up her bottle and squeezed ice-cold water into her mouth. The song that was currently playing on her playlist started fading to an end, so, the noise of the gym came back to her for a few moments. However, she noticed something among the metal clanging and grunting people. The sound of wood loudly clacking against each other as she saw beige blurs in the mirror. Tapping something on her wrist-watch to pause the music, she turned around to see that the boxing ring was occupied by two people training with wooden swords. Interested and having finished her workout for the day, she courteously placed the weights back into the rack and gathered her things before walking over to the ring. Fareeha spotted two people standing on the sidelines, watching the entire fight like it was a show. It was McCree and Song, also in typical gym apparel.

"What's going on here?" Fareeha questioned, walking to McCree's side.

"Oh, hey, Fare," Jesse greeted, tipping his hat, which he apparently neglected to remove to the gym. "Just watching these two have a go at it."

She wiped sweat from her brow with a towel before looking and saw the first dueler was Genji, the Metal Ninja wielding a wooden katana, holding it to bear against his opponent: Nathan, also wielding a wooden katana. One of the few times the Security-Chief has seen him out of his quarters.

"Why…" she noticed something off, noting their lack of equipment. "Are they not wearing protective gear?"

"Beats me," Jesse shrugged, watching regardless. "Been one hell of a show, so far."

She frowned as she looked back up at the ring, seeing the two duelers swipe at each other with the training swords, the sound of their swords echoing. Both opponents were fast, precise, and strong with each of their attacks, but the Shimada being more proficient and calculated with the sword than Brin. In fact, it seemed the Waster was the one on the offensive while his opponent parried and dodged his attacks, almost making it seem effortless. Some of it may have to do with his cybernetics, or it may not. She was also aware that Nathan had some cybernetics of his own, but didn't know how much they helped him in this situation. Amari then noticed they weren't the only ones watching the show, as other spectators were gathered around the ring. Some of them, like Hana, had their phones out recording the spectacle.

After a few more exchanges between their wooden blades, Nathan swiped across the left but Genji dodged the attack and quickly smacked the side of his sword against his opponent's fleshy thigh. He instantly grimaced and gritted his teeth as the pain shocked him. Genji let out a short sigh and the small crowd around them cheered, Jesse and Hana included.

"Er, dammit," Nathan muttered, rubbing his thigh. "What is it now? Ten-to-Two?"

"You're doing better, but you're still letting your guard down," Genji informed, pointing the wooden stick at him. "Focusing too much on the offensive. Leaving yourself open to attacks. Try a more defensive strategy. Don't let your blade stray too far from your body."

"Yeah…" the Waster muttered, proceeding to take off his shirt as he walked over to a corner to take a short breather.

When it came off, his upper body was fully exposed to reveal his muscly, scarred torso that glistened in the light because of all the sweat he produced. Fareeha grew up with some of the most decorated figures of Overwatch during the Golden-Age, practically seeing them as Uncles, Aunts, and even Siblings, but the amount and severity of scars that were on him opened her eyes. Showing that he must have gone through hell before winding up in their home. The Security-Chief was, of course, skeptical of the man's origin story but the canvas carved into his skin certainly made the premise slightly more plausible. Drinking from a bottle, his back to them, her eyes noticed a set of three pronounced, long scars that were on his back at a diagonal angle. They looked like they were sliced into his skin by three separate swords at the same time.

"Taking a peep at 'im, Fare?" the Cowboy next to her teased, noticing her stares.

"Of course, not!" she snapped back, glaring at him. "It's just those scars… I don't even remember seeing nearly that much on Reinhardt."

As the Egyptian wondered what caused his scars, Nathan pumped ice-fresh water into his mouth and took a big gulp. He squeezed the bottle, again, and splashed some of the cool water on his face. He leaned against the corner of the ring, his head hanging low and feeling a cool liquid wash down his warm body. However, in the corner of his eye, he noticed a rack of wooden weapons was set up against the boxing ring. One of them being long like a pole. Much like a spear. He glanced back at Genji before getting up and wiping away excess sweat from his face with his shirt. Then, he threw the shirt down before picking up the wooden katana and taking position, half-naked.

"Ready?" his sparring partner asked, his mask raising slightly.

"Yeah," Nathan declared, focusing.

"Very well. Remember, winner when there is physical contact of the body with your weapon."

"Well aware…"

With that, the two took positions and had their swords in front of their bodies at an angle, facing each other. Silence grew between and around them, as their audience now waited with their breaths held. Hana, Jesse, and Fareeha watched silently, the latter two with some inherent interest and the youngest of them excited to capture it on video. For several moments too long, the two duelists faced each other without moving a single muscle. The position of their swords solid like stone. Then, Genji slowly oriented his blade so that the hilt was held beside his head and the tip faced his opponent. In response, Nathan didn't move. After several quieter moments, the cybernetic swordsman announced the start.

" _Hajime !_ "

Without hesitation, Nathan launched forward and sent a downward, diagonal slash toward his opponent, who swiftly sidestepped and knocked the attack to the ground. Genji followed through with a cut upwards that would've ended the round very quickly and decisively, but felt the sword rock in his hand and saw his opponent blocking the underhand swipe with his sword. Then, his mechanical arms started whining faintly as strong downward pressure was applied to his weapon, his arms shaking and sword getting lower.

He then kicked the shorter cyborg and sent him tumbling to the floor but he quickly regained balance onto his feet. The Ninja peered up to see Nathan change his stance where his body was slightly rotated on its axis and he held the sword in just one hand, like a knife. His free hand in front of his body. Genji was intrigued but not discouraged as he dashed forward and contacted his sword with his. They started skirmishing in the middle of the ring, circling each other, and clashing their blades together with almost every action. Even with one hand, the Waster could block and deliver blows with ease, if not, better than when he was using both hands. Genji could still manage, but for the first time since their sparring session, doubts were starting to creep up. Eventually, after fighting for what seemed like an hour, Genji saw an opening and swiftly pivoted the sword out of way and swung upwards. However, the eyes beneath his mask widened as Nathan's left hand shot down and grabbed the approaching hands, stopping them in mid-air. His eyes darted to the left and saw a blade about to crash down onto him. The Ninja pirouetted and blocked the oncoming wooden blade then jumped and kicked his opponent away to get some breathing room. Landing back on his feet, he took a stance and was about to charge forward before he saw something flying towards him and quickly swiped it away with his sword, but his eyes widened as a long piece of wood came into view and almost poked him in the visor. It retracted before being thrust repeatedly towards his body. The Ninja kept dodging, sidestepping, and jumping out of the pole's way. The long reach prevented him from delivering any close attacks up front, so after waiting for the opportunity to show itself, Genji blocked a swipe from the staff and jumped high into the air. About to bring his blade down upon his rival, he only contacted a long piece of hardwood on impact and swiped it away to get an opening, but the stick shifted and ended up hitting his weapon before twirling and tossing it out of his hands. His metal hands were now empty, and his head slouched back at the tip of a pole hovered millimeters away from the nape of his neck, the weapon rock solid as Nathan held it in both hands, high and close to his face. Everybody around the ring was stunned at the performance but was silent as their mouths were agape. Then, slowly, and carefully, Nathan thrust the pole forward and tapped Genji on the chest, resulting in an audible but meek  _tink_.

"Ten-to-Three," Nathan declared, raising the staff up and leaning on the ground with it.

"Well done," Genji congratulated in a jovial tone. "That weapon suits you."

"It's not too different from a spear," the Tribal said, examining the long piece of wood.

Suddenly, applause started erupting around them and they two turned to see that the crowd gathered clapping their hands after witnessing such a performance. Genji laughed and bowed to the crowd while Nathan just huffed as he gathered his things and his shirt. He climbed out of the ring, immediately being approached by Amari, McCree, and Song.

"Enjoyed the show?" Brin asks.

"Was pretty good, Brin," Jesse congratulated, patting his metal arm on his shoulder.

"Yes," Fareeha chimed in. "Pretty entertaining."

He looked at the two, trying to see if they were being disingenuous with those compliments. Reading their faces, seeing they didn't seem to be.

"Yeah… Guess it wasn't too bad," Nathan admits, as well.

Nathan wiped more sweat from his face and squeezed more water into his mouth. More cool liquid running down his throat. Though, it did burn slightly coming down. Unfortunately, he was unable to further enjoy the rest as he heard Genji drop next to him and say, "Come, it's now time for us to visit my brother."

"Ah, right…" Nathan looked at him in slight displeasure, putting his shirt back on. "Lead the way."

* * *

Angela was in the infirmary, assisting the injured man the team from Japan had recently brought in, Genji proclaiming him to be his brother. When the Shimada had told Dr. Ziegler of what had happened on the mission, she had a hard time believing Nathan was the one who inflicted those wounds. Not because she didn't believe the man was capable of such things, but because she was surprised it even happened at all. Thinking that the Wastelander had completely disregarded what she had adamantly discussed with him just days earlier. However, she was relieved when she learned Nathan was defending himself against someone he thought was the enemy in enemy territory. Still, it warranted some concern.

For now, she was concerned with helping the Shimada brother across the infirmary floor, as he currently needed the help of a crutch under his left arm to move around. He also had his right arm in a cast and bandages all around his body. He was moving slowly, at first, trying to get adjusted to his current situation. He grimaced in pain occasionally, but Dr. Ziegler was as attentive as humanly possible. He was the brother of a former patient of hers. Also, the victim of another.

"Careful, careful…" Dr. Ziegler said, watching her patient's every move.

"Erh, I appreciate your concern, Dr. Ziegler," the limping man stated, humble and thankful. "But you needn't keep worrying about me. I am fine. You have done your job."

"My job as a doctor isn't to just fix my patients but to make sure they stay that way. So, as long as you are in my office, you will be under my supervision. I hope you understand, Mr. Shimada."

"I… I do, Dr. Ziegler. You are far too kind. And please, call me 'Hanzo'."

The Doctor smiled warmly in response before going back to help him adjust to the crutch. After a couple of moments, the door to the infirmary slid open and she looked to see Genji and Nathan walking in.

"Looks like you have visitors," Angela noted.

"Yes," Hanzo croaked out, clearing his throat, and adjusting his lopsided stance.

They watched as the two walked up to them before Genji stopped a few feet from where they were. The metal man clasped his hands on his thighs and took a deep bow towards his brother.

" _Ohayō gozaimasu, ani,_ " he greeted his brother, maintaining that deep bow.

" _Ohayō gozaimasu, ani,_ " the brother returned, then bowing as deep as he could.

Nathan stood back and watched the exchange with his arms folded over his chest. Genji eventually rose back up before facing Dr. Ziegler and repeating the greeting with her, she silently bowed in response. He stood straight up again but turned around to see Nathan just standing behind them, awkwardly doing nothing.

"Oh, please allow me to… uh…  _properly_ introduce you to my friend, Nathan," Genji said, stepping next to Nathan, and gesturing to him. "Nathan, this is my brother, Hanzo."

The two men looked at each other for a couple of moments before Hanzo straightened up and bowed deeply to Nathan, who stood there looking down at him with a slight scowl. Beneath the mask, Genji's eyes darted between the two as well as Angela's. Afraid something might happen.

"Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Nathan-san," the Japanese Archer humbly greeted, bowing as deep as he did with his brother.

"Yours's too, I guess," Nathan replied, glancing at his left hand, still wrapped in a bandage.

"And my deepest apologies for what transpired last night. I was in the wrong."

"Clearly."

"Brin!" Angela tried to scold his attitude but Hanzo turned and held his cast up, stopping her.

"No, he has a right to be angry," the Archer stated, before looking back up at him. "And a right to answers. It's the least I can do for you."

Nathan stood there, raising an eyebrow, still looking down at Hanzo with a more than irritated expression. He wasn't keen on immediately making amends with the person who tried to stick him with arrows just a few hours, earlier, but he looked to see Angela and Genji looking at him waiting for a response. Under their gaze, Nathan took a deep sigh before regarding Hanzo and gesturing to him.

"Say your piece," the Waster permitted.

"Thank you," Hanzo bowed slightly, then continuing. "I was hoping to speak with this to your master, first, as it contains-"

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, hold on!" the Courier interrupted, getting closer and holding up a finger. "Let's get one thing straight; The gorilla is  _not_  my master! So, don't assume I'll care about anything you have to say just because you were going to tell him beforehand. I don't."

The Shimada looked up at him, a bit surprised by that interjection but kept his composure his as he cleared his throat. Glancing at his brother for a moment.

"…Very well… But what I was going to say is that the reason I attacked you was that I believed you were going to attack my brother."

"Really? I guess you don't what the news much."

"No, it was not that… It is because someone contacted me the night before and informed me that you were going to kill him, and I was contracted to prevent that."

Angela and even Genji visibly reacted to that, staggered by the news they just heard. Nathan's eyes grew with interest.

"Who?"

"It was an anonymous contact," the Archer explained. "At first, I didn't believe it. Thinking they were trying to trick me but they sent me images and videos that I'm not sure I want to discuss it in full, here. It wasn't until last night that they contacted me again and told me the target, the 'man in black armor', was in Hanamura to wreak havoc. Supposedly contracted by the gang there. I had to see it for myself and… Well, you know the rest."

The infirmary became quiet upon hearing the news, the Overwatch agents thinking over the implications and how the mission to Japan must've been breached or leaked to their enemies, somehow. Angela nervously exchanged looks with Genji, who silently regarded his brother with hidden concern. She looked down to the floor, worried what an event like this could lead to. They were still an illegal organization, only a fraction of the capabilities they possessed. A breach like this would have huge ramifications or worse for everyone in the New Overwatch. Torn from the inside, like the first time. The Doctor knew she wouldn't be the only one afraid to go through such an affair, again.

Then, her worried thoughts were disturbed by the sound of… Laughter. She looked up, confused, to see Nathan softly chuckling with his eyes closed. Noticing the others also surprised and confused by his reaction.

"No shit?" he questioned, before chuckling even heartier. "Someone called an assassination hit on me? Wow, I really am making a word for myself around here. Surprised it wasn't sooner, given all the whole internet and cell phones and stuff. Ah, but it brings me back."

Hanzo frowned, looking at his brother for any assurance or answers for his confused state. His metallic brother could only shrug.

"Well, I will go off to tell your… Colleague this piece of information," Hanzo explained, limping off towards the door.

"Let me guide you to him, brother," Genji offered, walking beside him. "You need someone to show you the way."

"Very well, brother. Farewell, Dr. Ziegler! …Farewell, Mr. Brin."

He bowed to them both. With a few more taps of his crutch along the floor, the Shimada brothers were out the door. The Waster and the Doctor watching them go. When they were out of sight, Nathan breathed a heavy sigh.

"That guy's a piece of work," he said, shaking his head side-to-side. "Genji told me he got his metal body when his clan ordered a hit on him. I wonder where  _he_  was when that happened. Hmph, goes to show."

"…Genji hasn't told you who was the one that inflicted his wounds, did he?" Dr. Ziegler questioned, her tone making Nathan lose his amused demeanor and look at her with a furrowed brow.

"Wait, are you saying…"

"He did tell you it was his family that ordered his death, right?"

"…Fuck…" he let out, only able to regard the door they exited as he shook his head even more. "Then why is Genji…?"

"Genji told me that he was able to get past it," the Doctor explained. "After so many years of loathing. Against his brother and himself. I guess he was able to forgive his brother in that time."

Nathan said nothing as he thought about the brothers, how calm and collected Genji was when he was saving his own attempted killer. The same man who condemned him to life in a machine body, barely looking human on the outside. Yet, the Ninja never seemed to dwell on the fact that he was mostly metal in the few times the Courier accompanied him. Or, being accompanied by him. Though, one thing did bother him about it. About their past.

"I wish I was more surprised than I was," the Courier casually let out, before going to the door to leave.

Angela opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated and thought over what he said.

The door slid open, Nathan immediately being greeted by the hall and crisp air-conditioned air from the vents. Not sure what else to do for the day, he pulled his Pip-Boy to bring up the local map and make his way to the bar but felt something lightly bump against his foot. He looks down and immediately sees what hit him was a red ball, brushing up against his foot. Intrigued, he bent down to pick it up but an orange and black blur beat him to it and swiped the ball from him.

"What the-?!" he immediately rocketed up, startled, his hand going to his waist as he saw what had taken the ball away was at his feet.

It was a cat, a very fluffy cat. White on the belly and orange on the back with black stripes all over like a tiger. It was playfully swiping at the red ball, pouncing the toy with eyes as focused as any predator. As he watched the little fluffy creature attack its rounds prey, he heard a series of footsteps approaching and the cat was then scooped up into a set of tiny arms. It was a boy, with pale skin and fiery-red hair. He held the fluffy animal close to his chest and stared up at the tall man, his eyes wide as his cat's when it was hunting.

"Uh…Hi?" he awkwardly greeted, wondering where the hell this kid and cat came from.

"You're tall, mister," the ginger boy said with a strange lilt in his voice, still wide-eyed. "Do you know Uncle Reinhardt?"

"Uh…What?"

Suddenly, another voice called out, this time belonging to a woman.

"Lucas!" an older blonde woman with braids in her long hair suddenly came into view, calling after the child in a similar accent yet in English. "I thought I told you not to bother people?"

"But Tiger ran!"

The woman shook her head before looking up and seeing Nathan. The man immediately taking notice of her features, how Nordic they were. Unsure if it was the presence of the child or her overall demeanor, but he felt she was older than him. Her looks said otherwise, suggesting she used the same secret as the thirty-seven-year-old doctor in the other room.

"Hello," she greeted with a gentle smile. "I'm sorry about my son. He can be a nuisance, sometimes."

Before he could even come up with a response, the man noticed a whole gaggle of kids behind her. Seven more kids, varying in size and age, but all of them either having hair as red as the boy or hair as blonde as the mother. Their presence on a military base confused him even more.

"Umm… Who are you?" Brin questioned, surprised to see an entire family minus the dad here.

"Oh, where are my manners," the blonde mother scolded herself before holding out her hand. " _Ingrid Lindholm_. A pleasure to meet you."

"Nathan, uh, Brin," he said, shaking her hand until his eyes widened in realization. "Wait, 'Lindholm'? Your Torbjörn's wife?!"

"Yes. You haven't seen him around, have you? My darling husband decided to run off. I swear, his kids got that from him."

Before Nathan could be astonished at the efficiency of that dwarf engineer, the door to the infirmary slid open and out came Dr. Ziegler stepped out. As soon as she did, the kids' faces collectively lit up.

"Auntie Angela!" they shouted in joy as they ran over to the Swiss woman, who crouched down and held her arms open to meet them.

"Awww, I've missed you all, so much!" Angela exclaimed, as she was swarmed by the gaggle in a tight hug, her eyes closed in bliss and grinning ear-to-ear.

After several moments, she let go and immediately laid her blue-eyes on the youngest child in the group, a red-headed baby that couldn't have been that much bigger than the cat, currently being held by an older sister with glasses. The Doctor reached out and the baby was handed to her, then she stood up and tenderly cradled the baby in her arms. Looking down at him with immediate affection in her eyes. Nathan watching how she lovingly handled the infant.

"My goodness, Liam has grown considerably!" Angela noted, her voice becoming ten levels higher as she wiggled her finger and cooed at the baby.

"You can thank me for that," Mrs. Lindholm said as she approached the other blonde and gave her a big hug. "How have you been,  _duva_?"

"Better, now that I know you're visiting."

They held their embrace for a little longer, the baby kind of smooshed in between the two. The friends eventually separated but Liam was still being coddled in Angela's arms, now being held up against her shoulder. The redheaded baby now staring directly at Nathan behind them, the Wastelander a bit unnerved by the pair of big, unblinking eyes sucking on a pacifier.

"So, what brings you and the kids here?" Angela asks as she rocks the baby in her arms.

"My husband, what else?" the wife asked a question of her own, clearly irritated when she mentioned Torbjörn. "The children wanted to spend time with their father but things obviously become complicated when he's on an illegal military installation and refuses to stop working even for a minute."

"Yes, that definitely sounds like your husband. Wish I knew where he was. You certainly sound like in need of answers."

The Swiss Doctor turned her head to look at little Liam, but caught something in her peripheral vision and spotted the New Californian standing behind them.

"Oh, have you met Nathan, Ingrid?" the Swiss Doctor asked, gesturing to him.

"I have! He was just introducing himself to me before you walked in," Ingrid explained, before looking down at her children and gathering them up. "Children, would you be so gracious to introduce yourselves to Mr. Brin."

"Hello, Mr. Brin," all the kids except the baby greeted in unison, some of them clearly shy or annoyed they were forced to say hello, but some staring up at him like the boy from earlier.

"Umm…Howdy," the adult man greeted awkwardly, not sure how to deal with a group of Swedish children.

For some reason, one of them – a blonde girl with pigtails - audibly gasped when he spoke. Nathan's eyes immediately darted to her.

"You sound like a cowboy?" she questioned, looking up at him. "Are you a Yankee?"

"…Pardon?"

"You do! You do sound like a cowboy!"

' _Oh, fuck_ …' he immediately thought, as the girl practically bounces up to her and began bombarding him with questions.

"Where are you from? Are you from Texas? What revolver do you use? Do you know Jesse McCree? Do you wear hats like cowboys? What is your outfit like? Did you go on any missions with my dad? What's your nickname? Do you have a nickname? Where did you get those scars?"

Nathan just looked at her as her mouth ran off at a couple hundred words a minute, certain that the kid was getting faster with every passing second. It wasn't long until other kids started jumping in and asking him their own questions. Getting uncomfortably close as a bunch of beady eyes began looking up at him. The tall Waster looked up to see Angela standing back with the baby, still, holding him with one arm as she tries to stifle a laugh with a free hand. Ingrid was also amused but looked embarrassed as her face was a slight shade redder. Aware that her husband has been probably filling their heads with too many stories, again. Luckily for her and Nathan, another Swedish accent rung out from behind him, calling to his kids.

"Dad!" the children collectively exclaimed and ran past Nathan, finally giving him breathing room.

"Told you I wouldn't take long!" the Swedish engineer exclaimed, making sure to hug his kids even if some of them were taller and hard to reach. He still tried and was more than happy to do so. "What have you all been up to? I see you found your Aunt… And her friend."

"Yeah, and we were asking him questions about work and with you."

"Really? Well, I at least hope they were appropriate questions. And answers."

Brin narrowed his eyes at Torbjörn but was silently thankful all the attention wasn't on him, the Engineer's offspring walking alongside him and forming a blonde and ginger parade around him. The dwarf walked up to Dr. Ziegler and held his arms out until she bent down and handed him his youngest child, before happily embracing the infant into his arms. He marched off down the rest of the hall.

"Let's go find your Uncle Reinhardt and your big sister, Brigitte," Torbjörn said, being met with screams of approval from his kids and a gentle roll of the eyes from his wife.

Ingrid waved goodbye to Angela and Nathan, before turning and following her family. Watching them as they went, Nathan felt something brushing up against his legs and looked down to see the fluffy tiger-striped cat was rubbing its face all over his pants. Letting out a constant drumming noise from its throat, sounding like it was enjoying this.

" _Tiger_ _, kom hit!_ "

The cat's pointy ears stood up before dashing off and leaving a puffy cloud of fur in its wake. Running across the hall and soon being out of their sight. Dr. Ziegler leaned against the doorway to the infirmary, staring at where the Lindholm's went. Angela almost wanted to join them but she still had responsibilities to attend to. However, before she could relish more in her dissatisfaction, she heard Nathan walk up beside her.

"So…" he began, blankly staring off in the same direction as her. "That's a lot of kids."

A smile instantly grew on her lips, trying their best to hold back a meek chuckle. They failed, not surprisingly.

"Yes," she let out, in between laughs. "I love them, but I don't envy Ingrid in that regard."

"Heh, no kidding," he agreed, joining her with some laughter. "He's got energy for his size. I knew engineers are builders but mass-producing other human beings that quickly seems a bit much, doesn't it?"

The hallway echoed with their laughter at what was a pretty mediocre and somewhat tasteless joke but they enjoyed it all the same. The laughter eventually died down but not the smiles on their faces. However, Nathan slightly turned his head to look at Dr. Ziegler, seeing how happy she seemed in that moment. How he relished in it with her. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. A minor one, but it seemed like a good idea – a pleasant one. Unfortunately, before he could voice it, someone from inside the infirmary called out to the Doctor.

"Angela," Aida called out. "I think I may need your help with something."

"I'll be there!" the mentor responded, but turned to face Nathan. "I still have duties to attend, so…I guess I'll see you soon?"

"Sure thing," Nathan responded, trying not to seem disappointed as he cleared his throat. "See you soon, Doctor."

Angela regarded him with her sapphire-eyes and smiled warmly, giving a thoughtful nod. She turned, her white coat swishing, and walked in. The infirmary door slid close, but Nathan still stood there for a few moments staring at it before turning on his heels and walking away. It didn't take long for him to make his way back to the living quarters, walking through the sparse hallways. He could hear some sounds from the other rooms and knew the occupants for some of them, but he didn't pay any mind to it and rather left them in peace. Eventually, he found his room which usually had no decorations or markings on the door, but the owner found there was something on it. It was a yellow note sheet, taped to the door. He took it off and looked at it, seeing there were words on it.

"Took Bastion out, will be back by the end of the day," he read. "Sincerely, Mei."

Below that was a cartoonish drawing of Bastion, surrounded by an assortment of flying creatures: Birds, insects, and her blue drone.

"Hmm," was all he expressed as his room door slid open and he walked in.

Throwing the piece of paper on top his desk, he looked around his humble quarters before he began to take his shirt, pants, and boxers off as he went to the bathroom. The showerhead came to life as water rushed out and ran over his naked body, dirty from a busy day beforehand. Streams of warm water ran over his skin, dripping down routes created by either the muscles or scars on his body. Steam rose from his body and fogged up the entire bathroom, the glass panels on his shower becoming opaque with condensation.

After a couple of minutes of just wallowing in the hot shower, he opened his eyes and looked down at his left arm. To his Pip-Boy, examining the outer casing. The crack on the screen only grew to annoy increasingly with every passing day, despite knowing it would take more than a single hairline crack to cause a malfunction with the wrist bound computer. But it was disconcerting to see it there none the less. Wiping his hand across the screen, he finally finished with his shower and eventually went back into his room. With only a pair of boxers, he flopped onto the bed and instantly felt a wave of relief wash over him like the shower did, but not nearly as instant.

The Courier laid on that bed for some time, his mind running blank as it always did. Wandering from thought to thought, idea to idea, notion to notion. Of course, it recollected what just happened throughout the day and already surmised that it would be best if he forgets most of it. All of it just seemed like more unnecessary baggage for him to carry around all the time. Room was starting to run out. Not all of it was bad, but it could've been better. It always could've been better.

Rolling on to his side, he planted his heavy head on the pillow and shut his eyes to get some sleep. Clear away his thoughts for at least a few hours. His eyes snapping open just minutes later betrayed his attempt. Immediately greeted by the sight of his Pip-Boy's case, the Courier got up from bed and walked over to the side of his desk, where his backpack was. He zipped it open and dug his hands through, rummaging through all the gear and items in his way, looking for something. It wasn't there, so he went to another pocket on the pack and filed through that. It wasn't there either, and he was now scurrying every pocket on the worn and dusty backpack before he ended searching the entirety of his room.

"Where the hell is it?" the Courier questioned, becoming more frustrated the longer his search on.

The Courier scoured his desk, flipping through all the papers, notes, and diagrams. He filed through the cabinets and drawers but again had no better luck.

"Goddammit, where is it?!" the Courier demanded, starting to lose patience.

The Courier was throwing stuff all around, not caring for the tidy work he did anymore. Not caring if the noise could be heard by his neighbors. However, in his blind anger, he threw up a pair of trousers that in turn tossed something into the air and landing with a thud. Going over to it, the Courier saw it was a book with an aged leather back. He flipped it over to the front and saw the thin golden cross. A gift he had received in Zion.

Nathan opened the book, and on the very first page, he found what he was looking for. Throwing the bible onto his desk, he went over to his bed and sat down, then turning on the orange glow of his Pip-Boy and shining the piece of paper in it. It was a picture of a group of people in front of a mountain resort, the sight of snow, a huge wooden lodge, and hulking figures in the background. Nathan recognized and knew every single face in the photo; Both human and non-human, organic and metallic, bipedal and quadrupedal. At the very center of the picture, there was a tall man in a leather duster, Pip-Boy on his arm, a finely trimmed beard, and a smile on his face. On his right was a woman in robes with a pneumatic gauntlet on her arm, and on his left, was a blonde man in a doctor's coat and glasses. Behind him, there were two huge figures like the ones in the background. A blue one with a straw hat, goggles, overalls, and a set of grandma's gardening gloves on her, and a dark-green one with armor over his body, a huge hammer on his back, and looking like a mean motherfucker. Finally, before him were two dogs, one a robot canine with an exposed brain dome and the other a shaggy German-Shepard mutt with his tongue waggling out with buckets of drool.

"Oh, Guts…" Nathan said, rubbing his finger over the dog, almost feeling his rough fur and terrible smell.

Seeing them and the others brought him some sense of relief that he still had something to remember them by. And it probably bests it stay's this way for their sake. Finished reminiscing of less-complicated times, he placed the photo on his nightstand and finally went back to bed.


	38. Blood on the Risers

Guizhou Province, southwestern China

2076

The jungle-forests of rural China chirped and hummed with wildlife. The cool air brushing against the thick, green hills of vegetation. There were sparse signs of civilization other than a few humble villages and towns. The province's cities too far away from the remote location to make any significant difference in scenery. Only the hilly mountains covered in green to be seen for miles on end. However, the silence was disturbed for a moment as an MV-261 Orca soared over the canopies. The fog behind it being spun into cyclonic patterns by the engines.

Onboard the aircraft, a team of Overwatch agents were prepping for a landing at one of the organization's old Watchpoints. However, it wasn't just an ordinary Overwatch base. Specifically, it was one of the old Ecopoints - installations constructed to observe the planet's climate and gather data. A result of the strange and lethal climate anomalies that were plaguing their planet. Since it wasn't an explicit military installation, it had been abandoned ever since Overwatch's disbandment years ago. At least, they hoped it would be.

Security-Chief Amari was doing a final diagnostic check on her Raptora armor, seeing every one of her armor's systems were fully optimized. After making sure her suit was combat-ready, she picked up her rocket launcher and began to inspect that also. As she did, she cast her eyes up to look around the cabin and at the other agents occupying it. Immediately, she sees Reinhardt and Torbjörn talking to each other with Brigitte next to them but attending to some equipment. Next, she spots another group of agents across from them, some of them armed and fitted in combat gear while the rest were in simple jumpsuits and engineering equipment. She knew every single one of them, some even long before the first Overwatch fell, which made their safety an even greater priority if she was going to lead them on this mission – Her first  _actual_  field mission as an Overwatch agent. Also, her first outing leading one. While it may have been an illegitimate one by the international community, its importance wasn't lost on her in the slightest.

Clattering tools made her look back to the cabin booth and see the last agent they brought along to for this mission since they needed someone who would be the most familiar with the Ecopoints than anyone else in their ranks. Fareeha got up and walked over to the booth, to where their resident Climatologist, Mei, sat. Looking over a big tank of blue liquid with her drone, Snowball.

"Is something wrong, Mei?" Captain Amari asked the occupied scientist.

"Oh, Captain Amari!" Dr. Zhou exclaimed, surprised. "No, n-nothing's wrong. I-I was just checking on my equipment before we reached the Ecopoint. I wouldn't want to get caught with my pants down if anything happens, right?"

"That would be wise. Are you nervous?"

Upon being asked that, Mei fidgeted a little in her seat before she looked at Snowball then back at her tank. A hose coming out of it and attached to a handheld device that looked like a nozzle but with a grip attached to its underside, along with an assortment of switches and protrusions. Each of them serving a well-defined and well-designed purpose. Not the first iteration, either.

"A little bit," the Climatologist admitted. "With everything that's been happening in the world recently, I'm afraid something might happen while we're there."

"Don't worry, that's why the rest of us are here," the Security-Chief assured. "That's why I'm here."

"Thanks, Fareeha. Gosh… It's been years since I've been to Ecopoint: Guizhou, though. Thing's probably changed since I've been gone. We might be a bit slow to extract what we need from there."

"Just worry about your job and let the other worry about theirs. We'll get through this."

Captain Amari gave Dr. Zhou another reassuring nod with a small but sincere smile before turning around and walking back to the central command desk in the ship. Once there, she called for everyone's attention and they gathered around her and the holographic displays of the table. With everyone present and accounted for, the Captain spoke.

"All right everyone, our objective for this mission is to infiltrate Ecopoint: Guizhou and retrieve two things from the base. First, Dr. Zhou will take over the base's computer systems and extract the climate data that is on there. It is vital that she gets this information for her research. Second, we will also retrieve all supplies that are still stored within the base; This includes equipment, rations, ammunition, and so on. I'm sure I don't have to state the importance of this, as well."

There was a collective nod among the agents in response. Everyone seemed to understand the mission, so all that was left was to go through with it.

"Any questions?" their Captain asked, making sure before they proceeded.

One person did raise their hand, but it didn't get very high into the air and was a metallic claw.

"Yes, Torbjörn?" Fareeha asked.

"Well, this isn't a question, more of a statement," the Engineer explained. "It's been an hour since our scout to Guizhou activated the beacon, giving us the all-clear signal. However, we haven't received a single radio transmission since."

"Really?"

"Yup. Haven't responded to any of my transmissions."

Hearing this, the Security-Chief's eyes looked down at the command table and her face twitched with thought. Before they even got their boots on the ground, there was already something to be concerned about. It could be a false alarm, it could be that something happened to their scout, or could be the worst had happened, but she did not want to jump to conclusions. However, she had a feeling it wasn't what it seemed.

"Let's just find our beacon first, and then our man," she ordered, grabbing her falcon-shaped helmet and rocket launcher before stomping to the cabin door.

As they got within a kilometer of the Ecopoint, the Orca significantly decreased in speed as the door opened and Captain Amari jumped out in her Raptora armor before the thrusters on her back activated. The jets spitting blue flame as she propelled in front of the dropship and got to the airspace above the Ecopoint first. Looking down, her helmet's heads-up-display scanned the ground beneath her, looking down at the interior perimeter of the former-Overwatch base, a wall separating it from the rest of the forest. There were buildings and offices spread throughout the facility, with some crates and outdoor equipment strewn in between them. Most of the structures were quaint, not big enough to serve any other purpose than what the Ecopoint intended. In the middle of it all was a white landing pad that the dropship will eventually use, but she kept flying over the ground and scanned for any signs of activity. Her helmet providing eagle-eyed vision. After a few more fly-bys, she radios in the others.

"Everything seems clear," she said, her flight slowing to a gentle glide over the perimeter. "Security team, you're up."

"Roger that, Captain," responded the voice of Mirembe, looking out of the dropship's door and down at the landing pad. She then looked down at her weapon to prime it and fastened the straps of a pack on her back that had a set of small rocket-like boosters at the bottom. The agent then looked back to the rest of the squad of the security team, seeing they all had their jetpacks ready as well. "Let's go."

Not another second was wasted as she jumped out of the dropship and fell towards the facility grounds. The dropship kept flying across the base, but the rest of her team kept jumping out one after the other. Covering as much ground of the facility like a squad of paratroopers. As they got close to the ground, the boosters on their packs activated and lessened the speed and force of their falls until they landed unto the base unharmed. Instantly, they held their rifles up and scanned the area immediately surrounding them for any hostile signs of movement. After being spent, the packs popped off their backs of their own accord, releasing weight from their bodies. It was quiet except for the jet propulsions of their Captain and the Orca, waiting for the all-clear signal to land.

"Team, report," they all heard their Captain in their ears.

"I'm clear over here, Captain," Mirembe responded, overlooking an open ground from a building she landed on.

"I'm clear!"

"Clear over here!"

"Clear!"

The team waited for the rest to call-in, until they only had one last squad member left to call-in. They were taking somewhat longer to respond, the others starting to wonder what was happening on their end.

"Hoosic, respond!" Captain Amari ordered, setting her eyes on the far end of the base from her.

"I'm picking up something on the motion tracker, ma'am," the agent called, speaking at a hushed volume.

"Where?"

"In the building I landed in front of. South of the landing pad."

"I see. Mirembe, you're the closest one. Double-time it and back up Hoosic."

"Yes, ma'am," the agent said without hesitation as she hopped off the building she was on and went over to her squadmate, taking less than half-a-minute to get there.

She finds him taking cover behind a stack of crates and is facing a door to a sizable building. Coming up behind him, they exchange glances before nodding in acknowledgment and quietly march over to the large door. They go on either side of the mechanical door, Hoosic taking cover by the control panel and Mirembe across from him. He looks down, once again seeing the one blip on his motion tracker, but noticed it was getting closer to where they were, beeping more frequently as it did. It wouldn't be long until the blip reached their position, so, Hoosic looked over at Mirembe and gave her a simple bow of his head towards the door and the control panel. She instantly understood and reaffirmed her grip on her weapon. With only a few more seconds of silence between them, her squadmate slapped the control panel and the door came wide open, Mirembe taking only a split-second to raise her rifle towards the doorway. But as soon as she peeped through the sight, she restrained herself and lowered her rifle. In the doorway was Nathan Brin, who was happily munching away at what appeared to be a foam cup of steaming noodles, not even noticing the woman with the rifle until he peered up from his soup.

"Oh, Mirembe," was what tall man first said as he slurped up a noodle into his mouth. "Wasn't expecting to see you here."

The two agents both took a sigh of relief and slight disappointment before Mirembe radioed Amari.

"Captain, it's Mirembe. False-alarm, it's just our scout. We found him, he's alive and well. Over."

"Copy that. I'll signal the ship. Amari, out."

She released her finger from her ear and looked back up at Nathan, who kept slurping at the cup of noodles.

"Where were you?" she asked. "What were you doing in there?"

"Getting lunch," he gave a straight answer, sipping on some beef-flavored broth. "You guys were taking too long."

"We were trying to reach you through the radio."

"Shit, really?" Nathan asked, surprised, as he reached down and looked at his helmet, hanging from a latch on his belt. "I didn't hear anything on my end. Dammit, I thought I fixed it before I got sent here. And I guess that means you didn't receive my updates, either?"

"What 'updates'?"

After asking that, Brin raised an eyebrow before gesturing them to follow as he walked off and towards the other side of the base. Reaching that end of the Ecopoint, the tall man had led them to a site of open ground surrounded by crates and containers. In the middle, there was a sheet of tarp covering something, but they saw something leaking onto the ground. It was dark red and smelled like iron.

"There were fellow trespassers here before I came," the Courier explained, bending down and picking up a corner of the tarp to look underneath to double-check. "Talon – Took care of them before they could alert anyone else. Been quiet ever since."

Seeing this, Mirembe went over to his side and crouched down, peering under the tarp for herself. She saw what the Courier had done to the dozen or so Talon agents piled on top of each other and immediately looked away. A bit shaken by the sight. However, she couldn't deny this was good news for the rest of the team.

"Well, this makes our job easier, then," Mirembe said, getting up from the pile. "Good job, Brin."

Nathan looked at her when she said that as he finished his lunch, before throwing the cup onto the pile. "So, now what?"

"Now, our current objective is to reallocate the resources and supplies stationed here, so we can bring them back to Gibraltar."

"So… We're raiding?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"Pfft," the tall Waster sneered with a slightly amused expression. "You could have just said that. I could've picked this place clean before you guys got here."

Their scout walked off, away from the pile of corpses and towards the inside of the Ecopoint. Mirembe sported an unamused expression as she rolled her eyes while Hoosic walks up beside her and watches the tall man go.

"What  _is_  that guy's deal?" Hoosic questions, more confused than anything. "I don't think I've ever seen a merc like him."

"Don't like him?" Mirembe asks, addressing her squadmate.

"What?! No, I didn't say that! I actually think he's kind of…  _Interesting_."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've never heard of any random mercenary who can just keep up with the rest of Overwatch. And I don't mean ordinary grunts like us. I heard he went on some of the dangerous missions with Tracer, Reinhardt, Genji, and the other top 'watchdogs'. Y'know he was the one who brought that Bastion Unit to Gibraltar?"

"I know, I was leading the security team that detained that thing when it arrived."

"Crazy, right? Do you know anything about him?"

Mirembe went silent as soon as he asked that since she honestly knew very little about the strange, tall, scarred man, despite having plenty of interactions with him before. More than most, relatively speaking.

"No, not really," she merely stated, looking back at the pile of corpses under the tarp. "I'm just glad he's on our side."

"Heh, no kidding," the other agent agrees, a bit too ecstatically. "Winston must be paying top dollar for him."

Suddenly, the sky above them thundered as grey clouds began to form. It didn't take long for them to feel small droplets of rainfall onto them. Then, the rain slowly started increasing in size and severity, forcing them to find cover soon and rejoin the rest of their squad. Leaving the pile of corpses to be soaked in the rain.

* * *

About an hour into the operation, a couple of the technicians were working in the supply warehouse for Ecopoint: Guizhou, responsible for moving the crates of supplies to the dropship for transport. Many of the crates were heavy, so two of the technicians slowly carried one big crate to a floating flatbed cart, struggling and huffing as they did so. Eventually, they slammed the large box of stuff onto the cart and almost collapsed onto it from exhaustion. As they hunched over each other, panting, they then heard a series of loud stomps of metal and Reinhardt, in his shining Crusader armor, passed them as he carried two very large crates between his large arms. They weren't sure if the armor was even needed for the large man to carry that load.

"Afternoon!" the German greeted as he stomped past, the two continuing to watch him until he got out of sight.

"Show off," one of them muttered as he got up and patted his jumpsuit.

The other technicians burst into a short fit of laughter, but that disappeared as she looked up and saw something behind her friend. She gestured for him to look and they both saw at the other end of the warehouse from them was the tall, bearded man who chewed them out a few days ago at Gibraltar to know where DVa was. Instantly, the male technician growled as he turned away and went back to work.

"Asshole…" he grumbled under his breath, looking at the cart to see it was full. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

"I don't know, Daniel," the other technician responded, keeping an eye on the other side. "I just hope he let us do our jobs."

She watched as the man was chatting with another technician who was in the warehouse with them, Brigitte. However, she became surprised to see how casually the two were talking with each other. Unlike what they experienced, first hand, Brigitte didn't seem to mind speaking with the scarred, coated figure who towered over her. In retrospect, Brigitte not being bothered by someone's height or physical appearance made sense, seeing who she was the mechanic for. Still, the technician almost couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Reinhardt's steward start laughing in the middle of their conversation as if that man had just told a joke to her. It was more confusing than anything.

"Wait, do they know each other?" she asked, hushed and close to her colleague.

"Who? Them?" Daniel asked in return, looking over at Brigitte and Nathan. "Probably, if they're talking to each other like that. Surprised Brigitte would know a guy like that, considering how nice she is…"

"Where  _did_  he come from, anyway?"

"What do you mean, Sara?"

"I mean… I've heard things about him. He wasn't with the original Overwatch."

"Yeah, I've heard that, too. What else?"

"Well…"

Before continuing, Sara hung silent as she peered over and watched as Brigitte and Nathan then walked out of the room with supplies, the latter pushing the full cart while the former carried some boxes. As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, she looked around to see they were alone in the building. Then, she inched closer to her friend before speaking.

"Everybody thinks he's just a merc or someone that Winston recruited early in the 'Recall'," Sara first explained in hushed tones. "Other than that, no one really knows where he came from, but he's apparently undertaken some pretty tough missions with the other agents with some success. You know Dr. Ziegler's new assistant? The Iraqi girl with the cute glasses? Apparently, he was a part of the team that saved her on a mission in Oasis. He also apparently helped snatch that big red bomb from Britain."

Sara peered up again to make sure they were still alone, only the slight shutter of a window as it continued to rain outside.

"However…" she began, her tone now not entirely hushed. "There are rumors that there's some sort of trade going on between him and Winston."

"Trade? Trading what?" Daniel asked.

"People are saying that they sometimes see him walking to Winston's carrying some strange gadget and a pile of paper. There are talks about going into his room and seeing what he has with him. To see what has Winston of all people so interested."

"…Have you thought about going?"

"Hell no! Were you not there when he interrogated us?! Last thing I want to do is piss  _him_ off."

"Yeah… That sounds like a good idea. He's an asshole, but there's probably a reason he has all those scars."

"Yup. We should probably stop talking about it and get to work in case they come back."

"Agreed."

With that bit of juicy gossip out of the way, the two finally went back to work finding and carrying supplies to their cart before they haul it off. Daniel, after searching through the scaffolds and finding not really anything worth of value to them, decided to go deeper into the warehouse and found himself in a different part of the building. The interior being dim, he pulled out a small flashlight and guided himself to a stack of crates against the wall on the far end of the building. He looked at the larger crate in front and read the labeling to see it was what they needed but was too large for him to carry by himself. He then looked to see if there was a latch or lock to open the crate and carry the contents inside individually, but he found no such luck. However, he felt a sudden gust of wind and the room get a couple of degrees colder. He turned around with the flashlight, seeing if someone had opened a window or door behind him but it looked like he was still alone. The technician then felt something brushing up against the back of his shoulder and looked to see a black gaseous substance washing over him. Turning around, he saw the dark cloud was flowing off the crate and above him. He pivoted his head upward, the flashlight following his vision, and couldn't even scream before a set of dark hands seized him by the neck and effortlessly hoisted him up. The excruciating pain of metal claws ripping his throat out being the last thought in his mind as he let go of the flashlight and let it clatter to the floor.

* * *

Brigitte and Nathan carted their batch of supplies from the warehouse into the rain, but the mechanic's face lit up with realization as she stopped and reached into one of the boxes on the cart before pulling out a square device in her hand.

"I almost forgot," she said, then handing over that device to Nathan. "Could you give that to Mei, please? She was looking for something like this. You pushed the cart last time, so I'll take over and get it to the ship."

"Um, sure," he uncertainly accepted, grabbing the square object.

"Thanks. She's in the main building, working on something. Make sure not to get it wet."

Lifting a raincoat hood over her head, Brigitte ran off towards the helipad at a fervent pace to get out of the rain as quickly as possible. Nathan spotted the building she was talking about close-by, and put the device under his coat before going out into the rain, too. It was a short run, reaching the central research building of the Ecopoint in a matter of seconds. The door automatically slid open for him and he walked inside, seeing the room he went into was a large and spacious area – rows of tables with instruments and equipment meant for research. At first, he couldn't find anyone else within the room, but as he walked further in, he came across a window that led to another spacious room and found Dr. Zhou was in there at a large central computer. She was examining a holographic diagram of things Brin couldn't make heads or tails of. It was enough to keep the Climatologist enamored as she didn't notice the door opening and closing as he walked in. When she did finally look to her left she got startled at the sight of the large man in black armor. However, she calmed down when she realized who it was.

"Oh, Mr. Brin!" she exclaimed, clearly surprised and holding a hand to her chest. "You scared me!"

"Erh-sorry," Nathan apologized as he took off his wet helmet. "I'm here to hand something off to you. Brigitte said you needed it."

After explaining, he produced the square device, nice and dry. Mei's face immediately lit up as she saw it.

"Thanks!" she expressed as she took it into her hands.

She went back and inserted the square disk into a slot on the central computer. After doing so, the projection from the computer lit up with additional holograms highlighting data that Nathan would guess coincided with the rest of the display he saw earlier. Upon closer inspection, he saw the main display was a three-dimensional layout of the landscape surrounding the Ecopoint since he recognized some of the physical landmarks on his hike into the base beforehand. Feeling his wanderer brain twitching a little as his eyes darted from hilltop to hilltop.

"What is this?" he asks aloud.

"This? Oh, this is just all the climate data the instruments in Ecopoint: Guizhou has collected over the years," Mei explained, working the computer she did so. "Precipitation levels, wind patterns, temperature fluctuations, etcetera."

"So, just the weather?"

"Oh, no, so much more than that, Nathan. Don't you pay attention to the news?"

The Waster's eye immediately darted to her and back, realizing he was probably asking the wrong questions to the wrong person.

"Umm… Not recently," he responds, trying to save face. "Been preoccupied with a lot of things. What's been happening?"

"Well, Earth's climate situation has been getting worse and worse," the Climatologist explains, her tone noticeably becoming a bit more dejected. "Even with all the data we've gathered, it has become very hard to pinpoint a source of these changes or the anomalies."

"Anomalies?"

"Sudden changes in seasons, peculiar weather patterns, and these huge and disastrous storms that have been wreaking havoc lately. I'm sure you've probably experience events in California lately, no?"

Hearing that question, Nathan immediately thought back to the few times he's been to the Californian coast and seeing the Pacific Ocean in its vast and limitless scope. While there were times the waves were just cool and placid, he couldn't forget the one or two storms that would sometimes occur during the rainy seasons. A little rain and wind wouldn't be too bad if they weren't contaminated with radiation and covered everything in a green haze.

"Some," the Waster admitted, the true answer unbeknownst to her. "Any theories as to why it's like this?"

"A few," Dr. Zhou replied. "Many like to blame the climate change on our growing technological world, but even that has proven to be an insufficient answer from all the data we've gathered. Even then, the effects are definitely something we have to focus on soon."

Saying that Mei took a deep, upset sigh as she kept looking at all the holographic data the Ecopoint's data.

"Sorry if I'm talking your ear off, Nathan," she apologized sincerely. "This can be pretty boring for most people."

"No, no, it's fine," he took exception to that. "I… Just never really had a chance to talk about something like this. Besides, it's oddly refreshing talking about a subject that doesn't involve shooting someone in the face."

Mei did react somewhat to how casually Nathan said that last sentence, but she hid her surprise in good faith.

"You know, I always climbed the mountains around here when I was younger," Mei said, looking at the holographic projections. "I  _love_  hiking. Always went outdoors every opportunity I had. I've always wanted to do the same every time I visited California, but I've never had the chance. Do you have any suggestions the next time I do?"

The New Californian looked at the Chinese woman, trying to think of a proper response to give her. One that wasn't too different.

"Sierra Nevada, Klamath, and Modoc aren't too bad," he lists off, kindly but regrettably bullshitting her, knowing there are probably significant differences between the ones he knew and the ones in this world. "But, I'm more of a fan of the desert."

"You hike in the Mojave? I've never been there."

"It's a wild place. Best to be prepared before setting foot there."

Suddenly, Nathan smile faded away as he felt something pulling on him and he looked over his shoulder to notice part of his coat was floating mid-air as if someone was underneath it. He turned around to face the lump, but it just followed and stayed behind him. He turned around again, the lump moving with him. Then, he kept spinning and spinning and spinning, trying to catch the floating lump like a dog trying to catch its own tail. Mei couldn't help herself as she just giggled at what she saw. Finally, he had enough when he just grabbed his coat to reveal the floating blue drone whose eyes then widen in fear as it scrambled away from Nathan and flew behind Mei. The floating robot peeking from his friend's shoulder before hiding behind her again. That entire scene couldn't help but remind the Courier of another floating robot he met before.

"Your friend needs to learn some manners," he observed, straightening out his coat.

"I'm sorry about that," Mei apologized to him with an amused smile, before turning to her floating companion. "Snowball, say you're sorry to him."

Snowball looked at its friend with an unamused expression before floating up and having its visor blink the words "I'm sorry" in quick succession. Nathan wasn't convinced, but it was better than a couple of whirrs and beeps.

Then, without warning, a shrill scream faintly echoed outside of the building and made everyone in the room seize up in surprise. Snowball's eyes became wide with fright and hid behind Mei, again, as Nathan looked out of the window in the room. The holodesk before them flashed with the blinking red words security breach and showed a map of the Ecopoint, one red dot beeping where the warehouse was. Without hesitation, the Courier grabbed his helmet and fixed it upon his head.

"Stay here," he told Mei, before going out of the room and eventually running into the rain.

The rain pelted his metal head and mud sloshed around his boots as he ran towards the scream. It was very faint and could easily have been drowned out by the thundering rain, but he knew better than to discount it. It only took seconds for him to reach the warehouse in a sprint before anyone else, and once inside he held the barrel of his rifle up as he slowly went further in. Eventually, he reached the darkest part of the warehouse, remembering two of the technicians working close to here. Scouring through the structure, he did end up finding the two Overwatch workers at the far end of an aisle from him. As he laid his eyes on them, the Courier immediately could tell that there was something wrong. Both were on the floor, hunched over each other, and motionless. He couldn't see their faces, but he could see a dark liquid pooling beneath them. His eyes darted all around the room, refusing to get closer as he knew their bodies were set up as a trap. However, he heard a series of footsteps approaching from behind and saw Brigitte run in, bearing an expression of great distress.

"What happened?!" she questioned, scrambling inside. "Where's Daniel and Sar-"

The mechanic stopped herself mid-sentence as soon as she saw her friends' bodies at the other side of the room. She immediately tried to run over to them, but Nathan stuck out his arm in front of her.

"No, no, no, no! Don't do that!" he exclaimed.

However, the two became silent as they heard a rushing, violent wind and looked to see a spinning cloud of dark gas on the floor meters from them. Seconds later, a black hooded figure rising from the ground and with a bone-white mask in a permanent, deathly scowl stared at them as his gravely and raspy laugh emitted from the mask. The white of his mask stained with some crimson.

"Brigitte…" the Courier growled under his helmet, his grip tightening on his weapons. "Run."

The Courier and the Reaper immediately opened fire on each other as Brigitte ran, narrowly missing oncoming fire. The inside of the warehouse began to thunder louder than the storm outside. Their weapons lighting up the interior with every shot, the Courier's carbine rapidly emitting flashes of light while the Reaper's dual shotguns quaked the air with their blasts. The one with the carbine dove to a crate to take cover from the swarms of buckshot flying towards him. His cover proved inadequate as sheets of the metal were chipped away by the burning munitions. The Reaper kept firing at the crate as he walked closer, reducing it to scrap and almost revealing his target's body to him until the Courier got up and kicked the large crate towards. Reaper sidestepped the large crate, his ghostly form clouding his movements in the air behind him, but he then felt himself get driven to the ground as his adversary tackled him. Pinning him to the ground, the Courier brought the muzzle of his carbine to the skull mask but missed by a fraction of a second as the Reaper dissipated into smoke and let the round crack the concrete. Not giving him time to reorient himself, a pair of hands with bloody metal talons formed upon his helmet and violently threw him into a metal crate. Feeling his entire body rock, he looked up to see the barrel of a shotgun being lifted to his skull. He ducked and slammed the body of his Pip-Boy into the weapon, nearly getting hit by the blast and feeling the heat of it crawl up his neck. The Courier then delivers a punch to the Reaper's face and sends him reeling back. The taller man tries to send another punch, but his arm is stopped rock-solid by a set of talons. They then twist, and Nathan feels his wrist painfully contort from the Reaper's superhuman strength before being kicked down to the floor.

Nathan looks up to address this threat, but his eyes widen in shock as his vision becomes distorted in the low light, and above him sees the silhouette of a creature with bright glowing bug-eyes, raising a set of large, dagger-like claws high above its head and getting ready to strike. Memories of the Divide flooding his mind in that moment, the sounds of the creatures deafening his ears. Hearing them scream and gurgle as they carved through concrete. That's what the Courier saw for a moment until lightning lit up the room again and the creature morphed back into the visage of the Reaper before he brought down metal talons and scraped the side of Nathan's helmet, damaging the metal and leaving a line of scratches alongside the dome. The man grimaced under his helmet as he kicked ghost away and rolled back, simultaneously unholstering his sidearm as he got up and began unloading his magazine towards the figure – backing away as he did so. The pistol rounds hit their mark but mildly annoyed the Wraith at best as they appeared to dissolve within his own cloud. However, he soon noticed something roll to his feet and barely had time to brace himself before the grenade exploded and enveloped the Reaper in its blast. After the explosion, Nathan stood there with his carbine and a fresh magazine as he waited for the smoke to clear.

" _DIE!"_

He didn't even have the luxury to wait as a storm of glowing red bolts of light burst forth from the smoke and the entire room was enshrouded in a hailstorm of gunfire. Nathan dove to the ground, trying to avoid the swarm of fire and astonished by the rate at which it was being produced. Through the storm, the attack began to weaken the structural integrity of the scaffoldings and it wasn't long until they were hit in the right spot and began to collapse to the ground. Nathan looked up to see the falling crates but was too slow to do anything as tons of supplies fell over him, burying the Waster in a pile of metal and debris. It was only after this did the Reaper stop firing and threw his dual shotguns to the ground.

He looked at the pile with his mask's perpetual scowl and examined the huge mess he made. The huge pile that crushed the Courier. The Talon mercenary realized there was gunfire occurring outside of the warehouse, telling him that the other Overwatch agents were being assaulted by the rest of his men. He looked back at the pile, before deciding to move. However, he noticed something jumped up from a crack in the pile and noticed it roll to his feet. It was another grenade, but it glowed green.

As a ring of super-heated green energy washed over him, the Reaper let out a howl that echoed throughout the warehouse. As the burning green goo made even his deathly form feel pain. The force and the intensity of the blast were unlike anything he felt before, and the ghostly figure was washed away like a cloud in the wind. Leaving a pair of shotguns on the plasma-charred ground.

The warehouse was quiet for several long moments after he dissipated, the pile of rubble sat still and undisturbed. Then, muffled noises came from beneath the surface and there was slight movement from the crates and debris as something shook underneath it. This went on for a few moments until an arm rocketed up from the pile and cracked the surface open. A bloody and bruised Courier crawled out of the hole he made until he rolled down to the ground floor, scattering more supplies. Lying on his stomach he took off his helmet and gasped for air. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out one Stimpak and brought it up to his neck, injecting the syringe's contents into him with a hermetic hiss. He laid on the floor, afterward, breathing heavily as he felt the medicine work on him, but the pain surged throughout his entire body. Despite his pain, he realized there was more gunfire happening outside. The sound of automatic rifle fire from both Overwatch and Talon agents, the distinct noise of Pharah's rocket launcher booming through the storm air, and more noise he couldn't care to pick apart.

Taking one more gulp of air, he groaned in pain as he got to his feet and grabbed his helmet. He felt the claw marks Reaper had given it as he fixed it upon his head. He pulled up his carbine but saw that it took damage from the collapse, its scope now busted. The Courier ripped it off and threw it onto the ground before running out and back to the rain.

He stumbled to the exit, leaning against the side of the doorway as he looked out into the raining grounds of the Ecopoint to see it had erupted into a small war zone. What looked like a battalion of Talon ground soldiers that had snuck in from the forest and burst through the walls to ambush the Overwatch team. Two structures in the base were receiving fire from nearly all directions: the landing pad and the central research building. The landing pad and the dropship were being pelted by smalls arms fire but Reinhardt's shield and what appeared to be a collection of automated turrets were on the defensive. Nathan could see Torbjörn fervently hammering away at his creations amidst the attack. RPG's rocketed into the air and towards the ship, but they either detonated against Reinhardt's shield, disabled by some defense systems the engineer had set up, or flew into the air. However, despite having much more ample cover, he saw the research building was not faring that much better as it was being showered with as many bullets as it was raindrops. There were a few muzzles flashes coming from the building's windows, firing back at the Talon troops, but they were too few to put up much of a counter-attack.

Hearing gunfire close to his right, he turns his head to see a couple of Talon soldiers taking cover by some nearby crates and firing at the research building. Without hesitation, the Courier went into a full sprint and charges towards them. They were too preoccupied with shooting to notice the large man in black armor running towards them, as the one closest to him turned at the last second before being forced to the ground with a hand around his throat in a vise. The second soldier spun around but was instantly put down from a quick burst of All-American before he could do anything to save his friend. Tightening his grip on his hostage's throat, the Courier lifted him up with ease as he held him in front of his body and faced the battle, holding his carbine next to the silver head. Feeling hands claw at his arm in a futile attempt at freedom.

Carrying the Talon soldier like a makeshift shield, he ran towards the research building and began firing at the attackers. He knew he couldn't hit anything the way he was shooting, but it provided enough of a distraction as the running Courier began receiving fire his way, taking some of the heat off from the others. His meat-shield obviously didn't appreciate it as he began screaming and flailing as his own comrade's bullets punctured his black uniform. The Courier ignored his cries of pain and the splatters of his blood as he kept running, dumping an entire magazine towards the enemy.

At the front of the research building, Mirembe, Hoosic, and a few other agents took cover by the front windows and fired back at the assaulting Talon agents, their rifle sights fixed upon glowing red slits in the distance. Mirembe took cover as she swapped out a fresh mag for her weapon, but looked back to see Mei taking cover underneath a table and holding Snowball close to her. In the Chinese Climatologists other hand, however, she tightly held onto the same device she had with her in the dropship before landing. Her face not stricken with fear. Mirembe began hearing approaching gunfire. She peered up to see a black uniform and glowing red eyes running towards them and raised her rifle to shoot them down, but her eyes widen in surprise as she sees the glowing red eyes belonged to a Talon corpse being used by Nathan Brin as a shield.

"What the  _fuck_?!" she heard Hoosic next to her says aloud.

As brutal as it looked, it worked in the man's favor as he reached the front of the research building unharmed and took cover by the thick trunk of a satellite spire. Unceremoniously throwing the bloodied and used-up corpse to the wet ground. Then, in between his shooting, she saw the man in black armor wave to them.

"Come on!"

Mirembe instantly got to her feet and ordered the rest of her team to get ready to move. She went over to Mei and grabbed her by the arm. Under the covering fire of the Courier, the rest of the Overwatch team ran out into the rain and made a break to the dropship. Nathan watched as they ran past him to the landing pad, before going back and firing at his targets. The rainstorm and the lack of a scope made shooting somewhat more difficult to pick and see his targets, but the distance wasn't too challenging for his weapon and he found taking them down doable. Already whittling down their numbers by a significant margin, a rain of brass casings trickling from his weapon. He stopped firing as he watched a rocket come down and blow up at the foot of their enemies, looking up to see Pharah fly-by and send down more rockets to provide covering fire. Some of the Talon operatives began to focus fire on her and he could see the trailing of their bullets as they tried to hit her. Nathan took this as his cue to displace and join up with the rest of the team running towards the dropship, throwing a grenade to the other side before doing so.

The seasoned Waster caught up with the rest of the group, seeing Mirembe was at taking point. They fired as they moved, getting closer to the ship and to salvation. Rounds whizzed and flew around them, the rainstorm pelting them and making their uniforms sopping wet – but they were close now. Nathan saw Mirembe turn around and hold an arm high into the sky.

"Come on!" the Overwatch agent yelled over the storm, enough for everyone to hear. "We're almost there! Just keep goin-"

Mirembe didn't get to finish her sentence as a chunk of her face suddenly exploded and everyone behind her stopped in their tracks out of complete shock, Nathan included.

"NOOO!" they heard Hoosic let out a blood-curdling thunderous scream, watching her lifeless body flop to the ground.

Then – as if being the harbinger of death, and miraculously surviving the plasma – the black cowl of the Reaper came out from behind a crate and displayed in the grasp of his clawed hands his two "scythes", one of them freshly smoking from the muzzle. However, he looked different; The black of his robe was stained with the radiating plasma, part of his outfit was torn and scarred with glowing green. His eyes glowed too, but with a vengeful tint of blood red that could be seen in the dreary light of the storm. Part of the mask was broken, but nobody could tell what was underneath.

Hoosic, in a fit of rage and anguish, lifted his rifle sight to the skulled man but couldn't even get his finger on the trigger as Reaper swiftly brought one shotgun up and blasted the man into the chest, sending him reeling to the ground. He was still alive, but barely, his chest smoldering with energy and already starting to cough up blood. Everyone else stood in the rain, too shocked to do anything as Mirembe's blood started mixing with the ground. The Courier was the quickest to react, feeling the whole world around him slow to a crawl as he leveled the barrel of his carbine to the assassin draped in black. The Reaper did the same, almost meeting him in the draw, but couldn't get a shot out as a sudden flood of blue surged into him and was suddenly encased in a solid block of ice from nowhere. More shocked, everyone looked back to Mei holding the nozzle of her Endothermic Blaster to the Reaper, her hand visibly trembling. More gunfire from the rest of the Talon soldiers shook them out of their shock, but Mei fired a trail of the freezing liquid towards the ground and erected walls of solid ice around them. Forming a little perimeter and everyone watching as the smalls arms fire harmlessly bounced off the ice.

They heard the rocketing of jet engines as Pharah landed in front of them. The Captain looked to Mirembe's body before looking down at Hoosic writhing on the ground. Suddenly, the sound of ice cracking behind her made them look and saw the Wraith wasn't going to stay confined in his cold prison, punching out of the ice, and clawing his way out. The bone white mask looked at them, seeing the bright red glow in the dark of his eyes glow even brighter. Fareeha calmly lifted her left arm towards the ghostly man, brandishing the red tip of a tiny missile on her wrist, baring the white of her teeth in a snarl.

"Bastard!"

She let the ordinance fly free, detonating against the ice and resulting in a large concussive blast that destroyed the wall of ice and threw the wraith tumbling across the base, letting out a gravely, low roar that dissipated in the storm. Wasting no more time, Fareeha bent down and picked up Hoosic into her arms.

"Get to the dropship, now!" was all she ordered, before jetting off towards the landing pad.

"Come on, everybody," Mei exclaimed, already taking point with her blaster.

As she ran and created frozen barriers between them and the attackers on their flanks, Nathan was about to follow but stopped after only a few steps. Feeling the cold rain soaking through his duster, he looked down at the corpse of Mirembe at his feet, immediately focusing on her mangled head. He didn't know much about her other than her last name. They didn't have the warmest of interactions, but seeing her missing a chunk of her face from a shotgun blast reminded the Courier too much of the things he's witnessed. The cruelest acts living beings can commit to one another. Shit that would make anyone's stomach churn. He hated that looking upon her face was reminding him of that, in a place far away from there. Putting their fellows in front of the muzzle of a shotgun and squeezing the trigger. He bent down and dragged a finger over her remaining eye, closing it.

"Nathan!" he heard Reinhardt call out to him over the storm and gunfire. "What are you doing?! We must leave, now!"

The Courier picked the soldier's body up into his arms, ignoring the splats of her blood across his armor as he began running to the landing pad with her. He wouldn't be content with just taking her dog tags. His boots sloshed in a mixture of blood and mud as he made it to the landing and eventually reached the Orca, climbing on board. Reinhardt was the last one to climb in as he had his shield up and kept absorbing small arms fire as the ship began to ascend and fly away from the Ecopoint. Narrowly dodging a few loose RPGs.

"Incoming!" Reinhardt called out before he swung his hammer underhand and sent a column of fire through the air. The flame intercepting a warhead meant for them and detonating in mid-air.

The Crusader stepped away from the door as a blue Raptora suit flew along the ship before veering inside to then skidding to the floor, the armor glistening from the rain. Finally, the ship closed the ramp door and stopped the sound of rushing wind from invading the inside of the cabin. The Ecopoint steadily becoming farther away from them.

The cabin reigned with silence, only the slight humming of the ship and turbulence of the storm making enough noise to be noticeable. Nathan walked to the ship's central computer and laid Mirembe's wet, bloody corpse on top of it. He then took off his soaking wet duster and covered the upper half of her body, concealing her mangled head. Noticing his duster had a few new tears in it. With that done, he walked to his left and towards a stack of crates that were piled on top of the cabin's mini-basketball court. Suddenly, he kicked a crate across the floor and the sound echoed throughout the ship.

" _Fuck_!" he screamed out in rage, then grabbing at his helmet and throwing that across the ship. "What the  _fuck_  was that?!"

"An ambush…" Fareeha Amari simply answered, leaning against the central computer, and hovering over Mirembe's corpse. "A goddamn ambush."

Silence rang in the cabin again, but there was a sudden shriek of crying and everyone looked to the booth seats and saw one of the security personnel bursting out into tears. Instantly, people close to him tried to comfort the man, one of them being Mei, wrapping her arms around him. Reinhardt looked at Fareeha, the two exchanging silent glances before the old German sighed and walked over to the booth to join everyone else. The Egyptian looked back at Torbjörn, who secluded himself to his own corner of the cabin. Then, she heard fading footsteps and looked behind to see the Courier walking up the steps to the back of the Orca.

"Nathan," Fareeha tried to call to him. "You-"

"Does Mirembe have a next of kin?" Nathan interrupted her with a question.

"…"

"Does she have a next of kin?"

"…She used to."

Brin turned around to face her.

"Who?"

"A husband… But he passed away a couple of years ago from cancer," Amari solemnly recounted, not wanting this to be the last thing they speak of about Mirembe.

Nathan just stared at her, his gaze unchanging as it seemed to be stuck rock solid in a perpetual scowl. However, he shook his head as he turned around, climbing up the stairs and taking out his Vault 13 flask from his back pocket.

"Then what the fuck did she die for?"

"She died for the rest of us."

Nathan stopped but didn't dare himself to turn around and look at the Captain. To look back at the corpse on the table.

"She died for a cause she had no obligation to join and sacrifice herself for. She died for something she was a part of before I even joined, and long after it fell apart. She knew the consequences and the reality, and she still re-joined. You may not see it that way, and I wish she was still alive, but I know she didn't go down without a fight or without helping us. She fulfilled her duty to the fullest."

Nathan stood there, staring down at the number "13" on his canteen, remembering what that number meant to him. What it meant to his people back home, the champion who bore that number on his back. He continued walking up as he began to unscrew the cap.

"Did she?"


	39. Subterranean Revelation

Veronica laid on her side, her head resting on the puffy cloud of one of the cleanest pillows she ever brushed her face against. Some of the best and most fulfilling sleep she's received in years. It felt like she could just lay on it for hours- No, for  _days_  on end and be in a world of unbridled sleeping comfort. Except she still stirred in her sleep, grimacing as her body curled up and shook the bed as she tossed. Her fingers twitching wildly, clutching fabric in her hands. Letting out little whimpers in her sleep that echoed through the room.

Then, a gentle hand plants itself on her shoulder, gently shaking her to wake up. The tremors aren't enough to wake her, but she begins to mutter. Grimacing more as she begins to mouth out words.

"N-nngh…" she first lets out, only a small noise.

The hand begins to be more assertive, increasing the force with which it shook but still taking care to be gentle and not quake the sleeping Scribe. Still, it wasn't enough to stir her up from the bed.

"Ugh…" she murmured again, pouting as if she was in pain. "N-natthhhnn…"

"For Tandi's sake, wake up."

All the fatigue and sleep Veronica disappeared as her eyes snapped open the moment she heard that voice.

Jumping from the bed and throwing the clean covers off herself, she looks up wide-eyed to the scarred, bearded man she hasn't seen for a long time. Too long of a time.

"Nathan," she said, her eyes gleaming in the blue light.

She jumped up from the bed and wrapped her arms around the man. He jerks back in surprise but doesn't stop the hug from happening. He feels her wrap around him in a very tight embrace, almost feeling the air in his lungs get squeezed out, burying her face in his chest. He felt as warm as the Mojave sand.

"Uh, Veronica, what are you-?"

"Don't ruin this, Nathan," she cut him off, savoring the moment, and burying her face deeper in his chest.

After several long moments of silence, she felt the man ease under her grip. Then, she felt two large arms wrap around her as well. The sensation even getting warmer, comfier than the bed could ever be. Her lips stretch into a smile, her eyes fully shut in near bliss. However, even that sense of overwhelming joy couldn't last as her smile faded and her lips began to sulk. Yet, she tightened her grip around her friend even harder, and soon, small dribbles of tears began to run down her cheek as she let out a series of quiet sobs.

"Nathan," she said, in between the bouts of crying and grief. "Please don't leave me…"

The Courier didn't say anything as he kept still and let her cry into his chest.

* * *

Veronica Santangelo jerked herself awake, opening her eyes to see she was on one of the cleanest beds in California, located in a room in the center of the Big Mountain's dome. However, she saw no tall man with a beard and a mural of scars standing over her, no Pip-Boy to shine an amber light across her face. She stared at the cold, metal walls, seeing a ray of bright blue shining off them. The ex-Scribe fluttered her eyes as she let out a disappointed moan.

"Damn it…"

The right side of the bed shakes, and she turns over to see it was occupied by the two dogs. Rex by the foot of the bed and curled up into his tail, and Cooper on his back and showing his belly to the ceiling. Veronica groans before she sits up and rises from bed. The cold metal floor giving her a little shock before she found proper footwear.

* * *

The Sink, Big Mountain Research Facility

2285

Veronica walks out into the room immediately outside of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She sees Parmley, at a table that had an assortment of food items, looking at a toaster.

"Morning," she greeted, about to walk past until the smell of charred food made her stop. "Umm, is something burning?"

Parmley just looked at her with an unamused expression before he held up a plate with what looked like a lump of freshly-smelted coal. Veronica could only perk an eyebrow.

"Bastard burned my toast," he spat out.

"Ahahahahahahahahah!" echoed a metallic voice from behind Parmley, Veronica looking to see it was the Toaster. "First, your toast! And then, the world!"

The Ranger promptly threw his plate at the Toaster, causing the kitchen appliance to scream as it tipped over on its side, then becoming stuck like a bug on its back. The jukebox behind them burst into a fit of laughter, his body lighting up with every guffaw.

"Dig it, son," he said, in a rhythmic, tenor of a voice that sounded like it went through too many cigarettes. "Best put that bread burner in his place!"

"It's too early in the morning for this," Veronica exclaimed, briskly walking out of the room.

She walked into the central room where the Sink Central Intelligence Unit was, leaving a room full of characters to be among other characters.

"An exceptionally excellent morning, sir," the CIU greeted her, still using the male honorific. "May I provide sir a refreshment and/or repast for the morning fatigue?"

"Um…What?" her sleepy state not helping her decipher.

"May I interest sir in breakfast?"

"Oh! Uh… Yes, please."

"Splendid, sir."

A second later, the large central computer began making noises, as if there was a small kitchen inside its body. Then, after it seemed like an entire entrée was being prepared, an unseen lunch bell rang and a panel on the side of its body popped open with steam rising from it. Veronica cautiously knelt to peer inside and saw a clean plate with what looked like an omelet and a glass of milk. The ex-Scribe was more than skeptical to know where they came from but wasn't sure if she wanted to know the full answer. Reaching inside and getting her breakfast, the panel shut itself and hid its inner workings from the world. With the fork provided to her, she stabbed the yellow egg-wrap and watched as a piece broke off to reveal strands of melted cheese. Veronica's eyes lit up and wasted no time bringing it to her mouth, emitting moans of pleasure as she tasted the gooey cheese mixed with cooked meats and egg yolk. Bringing up her glass of milk to wash it down, the drink also wasn't half-bad. The breakfast almost enough to make her forget her woes.

It had been a few weeks since the search party ended up in Big Mountain, waiting for the Think Tank to figure out where their friend was and a way to get to them – if it was possible. And it was a big  _if_ , even when they were in a top Pre-War research facility. However, the answer wasn't coming as fast as they had hoped, so everyone had more free time than they asked for. The Sink wasn't too bad, providing more than enough amenities so they wouldn't starve, but being cramped up in the same space with other people for long periods was getting maddening. Even more so with all the talking light switches and sinks to add on to the ruckus. A sense of pointlessness overcame Veronica at times, pressured further into wanting to get out there and find the Courier. The rest of Big Mountain was open to them, however, and while some didn't really want to see the crater for themselves – what old secrets it held – others didn't mind going around the scientific sandbox.

A door to the Sink opened, Veronica looking up to see Boone walking in with his rifle slung over one shoulder and a big burlap sack over the other.

"Hey, you're back. Where've you been?" Veronica asks.

"Southeast," he answers, walking past the CIU and placing the burlap sack on the workbench. "I found some warehouse with a small, Pre-War town in it. Place had already been picked clean, though. Did find some stuff on the way."

Grabbing it and tipping it over, an assortment of provisions and high-tech gear poured out onto the workbench. Veronica let out an impressed hum as she ate more omelet, but the excitement was a bit dampened as this type of haul wasn't as exciting as before. Looking over to the ammo bench on the other side of the room and seeing it was already stacked with enough ammo and weapons to make a Gun Runner merchant faint. It wasn't a bad idea to be stocked up, but space was getting scarce with every haul. Soon, they'd have to start throwing stuff off the balcony.

"At least we're getting  _something_  out of this," Veronica said, picking up a Laser Pistol he brought back and examined it, noticing a speck of blood on the receiver. "Nathan would approve of our hoarding habits."

"Yeah…" Boone agrees, unslinging his rifle and resting against the wall. "How're you holding up?"

"Okay, I guess. I spent most of last night talking to one of the light switches, so what was an illuminating experience… I just told a pun, didn't I?"

"Yup."

Veronica groaned in disappointment while Boone just lowly chuckled, amused as he went back to his haul and began to sort through it. However, a high-pitched, ear-grating scream echoed from the bedroom as a tiny Securitron came barreling to them before abruptly stopping at their feet. The two humans looking at him.

"Hey, buddy, you're back!" Muggy exclaimed, looking up at Boone and somehow sounding out of breath. Despite having a static coffee cup expression on his screen, they could tell the little robot was getting jittery, more hopped up than having a bowl of Sugar Bombs with Nuka-Cola as the milk. "Did you… Did you get…?"

"Yeah…" Craig slowly said, producing a single coffee mug from the pack, somewhat reluctantly. "Just one though-"

"Yes!"

Somehow, Muggy jumped up and snatched the cup from his hand, holding it close to his chassis. The tiny Securitron began cackling wildly as he rolled around the room at high speeds, then rolling back to the bedroom. Veronica and Boone watching him go.

"I don't know how Nathan was able to deal with him," the 1st Recon sharpshooter said, still staring at the doorway.

"Who says he did?" the Scribe retorted.

A bit amused by the comment, Boone's eyes latch to the other door in the living room, besides the bedroom door.

"Hey, have you gotten through that door, yet?"

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "It's locked tight. Haven't been able to open it at all."

"So, no idea what's behind?"

"Muggy said it's where Nathan 'kept his brain', but I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Suddenly, the Central Intelligence Unit came to life and alerted the two in front of it.

"Forgive me, sirs, but it is with great compunction that I must notify that sirs' attendance is demanded inside the Think Tank. It is detailed that they desire to speak with sirs."

"For what?" Parmley spoke up, appearing from the doorway eating a crunchy black ball.

"I am uncertain. But, please, do attend this impromptu visitation with haste. It appears considerably imperative sirs do so."

The three all exchanged unsure glances at each other, wondering if this meant they finally knew where Nathan was. Already convinced, Veronica scarfed down the rest of her breakfast before rushing off towards the door.

"Come on!" she yelled over her shoulder exuberantly.

The other two ended up running after her.

Inside the Think Tank's laboratory in mere seconds, the three humans find all the Big Mt. Scientists lined up next to each other, forming a "V" towards the group with Dr. Klein at the front. Dr. Mobius was there too, but just hovering awkwardly next to Klein.

"FRIENDS!" Dr. Klein announced as he spotted them. "WE HAVE-!"

"Umm, I think I should speak this time, Klein," Dr. Mobius interrupted, pivoting a dirty monitor. "Save our audience the time."

"WHA… FINE."

With that out of the way, Mobius floated in front of Klein and began to speak.

"Good news, everyone!" he announced at a bearable volume. "I am happy to announce that we are closer to finding your friend and sending you his way!"

Instantly, the search party began to celebrate, Veronica smiling as she hugged both Boone and Parmley. Weeks of trudging through the Mojave and weeks of waiting in a metal cage finally paying off. One step closer to finally repaying a debt to an old friend they've held for so long, even if it was a debt they incurred to themselves. It felt like a great amount of weight was lifted off their shoulders, more weight than all the chips in New Vegas.

"So, you've found him?!" Veronica asked, looking up at Mobius' dirty monitor-eyes.

"Umm… No, I didn't say that."

Her smile faded away after his correction. That weight coming back as soon as it left.

"While, yes, we have made great strides in locating your friend and hopefully sending you his way, we've unfortunately come across a little hiccup during our research. Well, to be honest, it's not even related to our current project in rescuing Nathan but is something that requires our utmost attention and repair."

"What? What could be more important than finding Nathan?!"

"Oh, it is very important."

"How?! Why?!"

"Because it was your friend who ordered us to work on this little 'side-project'."

"…R-really?"

"Yes. While we can't spare the details now due to the constraints of time, I will tell you that there has been a containment breach in one of our facilities to the East of here. Where we house our specimens for research. It will be a simple mission: Kill anything that is out of its cage. Failure to do so could very much put the entire facility in jeopardy. However, given the nature of these specimens, we do have some equipment for all of you to work with and make it less of a perilous journey. Fittingly, these were also side-projects Mr. Brin had commissioned of us. Follow me."

Breaking off from the other Think Tanks, Mobius led the companions to the far-right side of the room. At the end was a huge cloth sheet that covered something equally huge. Tall enough to tower over them, and wide enough to fill up a small room. Stopping in front of them, Mobius, somehow with his monitors, grabbed the cloth and pulled it off to reveal what was underneath. Surprising the group with not one, but two imposing sets of Power Armor. One of them instantly caught the attention of the ex-Scribe, and her eyes became wide in shock and surprise as she recognized the design.

"W-Wait is that…" she said, pointing at the set of Power Armor on the right. "Is that a set of X-01?!"

Indeed, a relic from an old Wasteland power was standing right in front of her. A boulder of an armor staring down at her with an insect-like mask. Her old Brotherhood skills almost kicking in and wanting to fight the machine even if it was unoccupied.

"Mark II," Dr. Dala added on, the mineralogist joining their conversation as she floated in. "A very state of the art system of Power Armor, but we've improved it by creating the armor plating entirely out of Saturnite."

"'Saturnite'?"

"A metal-ceramic alloy we've developed. You will find that it has a very, very high resistance to damage, making the armor near impregnable. Definitely would've been useful for my high school prom."

Ignoring that last statement, Veronica got closer to the set of Advanced Power Armor and marveled at how brand-new it looked. The X-01 Mk. II APA was already regarded as being the "perfect" Power Armor suit to be created and couple that with an experimental alloy from one of the most advanced Pre-War facilities in the world, she could easily see why Nathan would've wanted this to be made.

However, to her left, she noticed the second set of Power Armor was just a set of old T-51b. Upon closer inspection, she saw there were weapons attached to it at certain parts of its body. On the back, it had a huge jetpack system and on the gauntlets, appeared to be a series of compact weapon systems mounted on top of the wrists. One looked like a nozzle, while the other looked like the end of a Laser Rifle. That wasn't it, as there were two other weapon systems on either shoulder: a set of minigun barrels on the left and a rocket launcher on the right. Though, those systems looked even more advanced than anything back in the Mojave. Finally, she saw what appeared to be a collection of Tesla coils along its pauldrons, arms, and some on its legs. The old Pre-War suit clearly got a serious upgrade.

"And this is my work," Dr. 0 joined in too, pride laded in his speakers. "A set of T-51b I've modified with an array of weapon systems Nathan provided: Gatling laser and flamethrower for the wrists, a jetpack for going up, 5.56mm minigun with an AI targeting system on the left shoulder complimented by a modified Red Glare rocket system on the right, and trusty Tesla coils! A lot of Tesla coils now that I think about it…"

"This is some serious hardware…" the ex-Scribe observed, going up to the right side of the armor and reaching up to the large metal tube pointing upwards, particularly noting the painting of the Pre-War American flag being on the body. "But why 51? You clearly have a set of better armor right next to it."

"Well, Nathan wanted to use this older model of Power Armor to be a prototype for all the weapons systems he smacked onto this thing. Seeing it's West-Tek hardware, I personally can't blame him for wanting to be thorough. Not as bad as RobCo, but still."

The ex-Brotherhood Scribe shook her head in a sense of awe, marveling at the two pieces of hardware. Unable to think of equipment better suited for trudging through the Wastes than these. They couldn't keep gawking, though.

"Okay, who wants to suit up?"

Around half-an-hour passes, Veronica decided to climb into the set of Enclave suit and familiarize herself with the feeling of Power Armor encasing her body, something she hasn't felt for the longest time. She instantly rose up to seven-plus feet in height and could feel the strength and power surging through her bulky metal limbs as she thumped around. Moving around in the suit was second nature for her, and it wasn't long until she felt like she could take on the world in this personal tank. She held the insectoid helmet in her giant metal hands, staring into its yellow eyes. Obviously, she thought about all the history behind that mask, what it meant not just to the ex-Brotherhood member, but all the Wasteland. Knowing how close the world came to end for the second time.

She shook those thoughts away, spinning the helmet's face away from hers and planting it on her head. The rest of the suit connected to the helmet with a hermetic hiss, and she could see all the onboard computer systems and heads-up display come online. The bodysuit she had to wear to properly link up with the armor was a drawback to this already smooth ride, but those complaints subsided as soon as the internal air-conditioning unit turned on. Through the helmet, she heard another series of stomps to see the T-51b armor walking around, a bit awkwardly. Boone watched from the sidelines, more than content with not being in a metal box.

"You okay, Parmley?" Veronica called out.

"Yup… I think," he answered, doing a few more laps around the space. "I feel like I can take on the entire Legion, though!"

"It'll do that to you."

Smirking under the mask, Veronica turned around and walked over to a corner before bending down to pick up something in her hands. She produced a large, bulky green device that required both hands to hold, the right hand on a grip on top and the left hand on a black handle protruding to the side. It had a long, silver-colored barrel with a muzzle and three bayonet-like fins jutting forward. Under the base of the barrel were a series of glowing green tubes, and on top its frame were three tanks with wires running through them. On its left side were a series of switches and dials, a fresh Microfusion cell sitting snug in a socket.

The woman in Saturnite armor spun around and brandished the Winchester P94 Plasma Caster – freshly cleaned and freshly refurbished – lucky that they chanced upon the weapon in the surrounding crater. While Veronica preferred using her fists, she would be a fool to not be using heavy weapons in a suit of Power Armor. The advantages clearly outweigh her preferences.

"VERONICA."

She winced under the suit hearing her name be called at very high volumes, turning around to face Dr. Klein, who had come up to her.

"Yes?" she asked, a bit scared to have a conversation with him for the sake of her ears.

"I… UH… HEARD WHAT TRANSPIRED AT THE SATELLITE ARRAY WITH THAT LANKY ROBOT. I WAS TOLD YOU LOST SOMETHING VERY VALUABLE TO YOU," Klein said, his monitors twitching. "SO, I HAVE SOMETHING TO REPLACE IT."

Then, one of the Think Tank's monitors produced a Power Fist. Veronica's eyes lit up, but she saw that it was different from the standard models. It was blue and had the words "Saturnite" painted onto its side and the hydraulic jack. Picking it up, noting how much lighter it felt than her ordinary Power Fist. She fixed it upon her right hand, feeling how comfortably snug it fits.

"I REALIZE IT WOULD GIVE YOU A SIGNIFICANT TACTICAL ADVANTAGE IF YOU WERE TO BE GIVEN ONE OF THOSE FOR COMBAT. GREATLY INCREASING YOUR CHANCES OF SUCCESS ON THIS MISSION," Dr. Klein explained. "ALSO, IT MATCHES YOUR OUTFIT. COMPOUND-WISE."

"Thanks, Klein!" Veronica graciously said. "I'll make sure to put it to good use."

She tightened her fingers in the glove, watching the solid-metal jack pump up and down as she operated the hydraulics. Very positive and responsive.

"Bark!"

That sudden noise made the two turn around to see Dr. Borous hovering over Rex. Wondering what he was doing to the cyberdog, the brain talked to Rex as he carried on.

"Don't worry, boy! If there is anyone who knows how man's best friend works, base model or modified, it is most assuredly me-!"

" _BARK!_ "

Their side of the room thundered as a wave of concentrated noise-energy rocketed from Rex's snout and sent Borous across the floor, flying. Everyone froze and looked at the fallen think tank as he remained motionless for several long moments. Rex walking up to the crumpled tank and giving him a few curious sniffs.

"By gosh, by golly, it WORKS!" Dr. Borous exclaimed, rocketing up and with his monitors a tinge brighter. "Well done, Rex! Well done, indeed!"

"I guess that's it, then," Veronica said, flipping a switch, and making her Plasma Caster thrum to life. "Let's go."

* * *

Caught up in the fervor, the party of companions rushed out of the Think Tank and began running East, towards the site of the containment breach. With two sets of highly advanced Power Armor kicking up dust and gravel with every heavy stomp, a lot of technological bits glowing even in the sun, they truly were a remarkable sight. Santangelo feeling a bit nostalgic as she maneuvered through the canyons and valleys, thinking she was back wandering in the Mojave. However, it felt strange looking straight at a horizon and not the back of a tall man in a duster.

They had already crossed half the distance and were silent the entire run, but Parmley had a nagging feeling in his mind ever since they were briefed about this breach. One that he forgot to ask when they were swept up in the technological zeal.

"Hey, did they ever say what was in that place?" he asked.

"What?" Veronica looked back but kept running alongside him.

"Did they ever say what  _exactly_  were the specimens they were holdin'?"

Veronica narrowed her eyes before turning the gaze of her visor back to the horizon, already seeing the facility they were to infiltrate and clear out getting close.

"…I don't think they did," she shakes her head. "But it was important enough for Nathan, so be ready."

They spent the remainder of the run silent and soon reached the front door of the facility. It was a rectangular, dark concrete building, a series of rusty pipes wrapping around it. As they got closer, they saw a faded spray-painting of a letter and a number, "X-8". They were right on the doorstep.

"I'll stay outside and provide watch for you guys," Boone stated, taking up position near the entrance. "I don't want to take any chances given what's out here, and besides, you guys are already well-suited for the job."

"Be careful, then, Boone. I wouldn't want you to pull a muscle waiting for us while you lounge out here," Veronica responded, before looking at Parmley across from her and nodding. Everyone ready as they can be, she palmed the door and it opened, two armored humans and two dogs walking in.

The first room they walked into was an interior covered in metal walls, and a few lights so they weren't completely blind in the new environment. The facility had obviously seen better days, but the interior didn't look any much better than any Pre-War site back in the Mojave, looked a bit cleaner in fact. They paid no more mind towards the cleanliness of the building as immediately in front of them were a series of windows that served as observation posts with something inside. Curiously, Veronica slowly stomped over to one of the windows and looked inside to see a small room with a medical table surrounded by multiple automated medical instruments, including a few spinning saws.

"What the…?"

Veronica spots what appeared to be a mass of green-colored flesh and bone splayed out over the table, vivisected to the point where it wasn't clear what it was before mutilation. At first, she thought it was some type of mutated creature from the Wastes, but it wasn't distinguishable as a pile of flesh and organs. So much for research with a buzz saw.

"Holy shit, is this a brain?!"

She heard Parmley exclaim and turned around to see him hunched over a glowing blue tank of liquid. Indeed, there was a brain floating in a vat of transparent goo in the tank. However, it did not look human and clearly belonged to some mutated creature if its sickly green pigmentation was any indication. Where its owner was, they didn't know. Veronica narrowed her eyes more under her helmet before looking to see there were two doors that would lead them to two separate sections of the research facility. Their group consisting of two humans and two dogs; The math was easy for her.

"Okay, I know I really shouldn't say this from all the Pre-War horror movies I've watched, but let's split-up," Veronica dismally said. "I'll take the right, you take left. Sound good?"

"I guess," Parmley replied, shrugging under his armor. "You should take Rex, though. I'm clearly more armed to the teeth than you are."

"I have the better defense," she shot back, pounding her chest with a metal fist, the sound echoing throughout the room.

So, with Parmley and Cooper going one direction and Veronica and Rex taking another, the latter group went through the hydraulic door and slowly walked through a metal hallway with stairs leading them a few feet down but deeper into the facility. They take a right turn into a hallway leading them to another examination room, and upon entry, see boards and blueprints of cyberdogs. There was another medical bench in the middle of the room, surrounded by automated medical arms, also with an unrecognizable mess of flesh. Best to say it wasn't a dog, either.

"Ugh!" Veronica let out in disgust, glad the mask could also filter out smells. "I've seen butchers do better jobs at cutting meat. Just what is this thing supposed to be?"

"Bark!"

She saw Rex was at a large hydraulic door with the words "Testing Area" above it, facing it with his ears pinned back and his body crouching low to the ground. Possibly hearing and smelling something. Even as she walked up beside him, the old police dog wouldn't stop growling.

"What is it, Rex?"

"Bark! Bark! Bark!"

"Huh…"

The ex-Scribe in Power Armor looked at the door, reaffirming her grip on her Plasma Caster, before taking a big deep breath and operating the door's mechanisms. It opened, and Veronica held up the bladed muzzle of the Plasma Caster up to an entrance area with a hallway that had a series of trophy cases flanking either side of the entrance hall. It was obviously Pre-War in architecture, but this section of the building was vastly different from the areas they were just in. Cautiously with Rex, they walked in and eventually went through doors and entered another hallway labeled "Hall G" that had patterned tile flooring and lockers lined up against the walls. Veronica barely recognized this place as being a school and was wondering what it was even doing here. There was also a severe lack of light as well as if the power had been cut to this section of the facility. However, electrical crackling to her left distracted her and she saw the destroyed hull of a machine a few feet from her. The light on her helmet's eyes turning on and showered the hallway in a bright circular cone, she saw it was the destroyed hull of one of Mobius' Robo-Scorpions. When she took a closer look, however, she noticed the armored, metal carapace looked like it was ripped to shreds by knives. The first thing it reminded her of was Deathclaws, but the claw marks looked too small to match.

"Hey, Veronica? You there?" Parmley's voice rang out in her helmet. "I found nothing on my end except for some weird platform and what looks like a big death ray on the ceiling. You?"

"I think I'm in a high school…" Veronica responded, looking around the dark space. "I found a dead Robo-Scorpion, though. How 'bout you get over here so we can explore the rest of this place together? I'm getting creeped out."

"Headin' there now."

Veronica got up and turned around to walk over to the entrance to wait for backup.

"Come on, Rex. Let's wait for the other to show-"

Suddenly, her eyes peered into the other end of the hallway and saw a pair of luminescent eyes with a series of eight little "horns" surrounding those eyes. Rex growled at the figure in the dark, Veronica's eyes widened, and she brought up her Plasma Caster to bear, but the glowing eyes skittered away before she could shine her light on it. Before being able to question what that was, a shrill scream echoed from behind her and down the other end of the hall, where her light couldn't reach. Staring off into the dark expanse of the hall blind, but hearing creatures hiding in that darkness.

"Rex," Veronica said, backing away slowly from the hall. "Get out of here-"

Without warning, the ground before her erupted and a creature sprung out from a concrete mound to pounce at her. Not expecting something to come from below, Veronica panicked and fired off a bolt of super-heated green plasma at the creature. Luckily, she got it in the chest and threw it back against the wall, dead. Shaking in her armor, her helmet shined the light on the creature and saw it was a humanoid, quadrupedal creature with thick, brown-orange scales for skin. It had eyes and spikes that glowed like lamps, and a set of long, sharp claws on its hands and feet, complemented by a mouth filled with razor teeth. The ex-Scribe has never seen anything like this creature in her life, even when she traveled with the Courier all those years ago.

"Veronica!" Parmley yelled out as he and Cooper ran over to where they heard the shot and saw her standing in the dark. "Veronica, what happened-?!"

He stopped as soon as he saw the creature she had just killed still on the floor, a big flesh wound of glowing, green plasma in its chest.

"What the hell is that?!"

Another roar echoed throughout the hallway but sounded like they were surrounded on both exits. Then, they could hear something rushing through the halls and towards them. They didn't have enough time to prepare as they could see a collection of glowing eyes quickly gaining towards them, the sound of their claws scraping against the tile floor.

"I think we found their specimens."

Without hesitation, Veronica began firing green balls of plasma towards the oncoming pack of creatures. Parmley did the same, raising his right wrist and letting loose a flurry of red laser bolts towards the glowing white eyes, then, the turret on his shoulder coming to life as it began targeting the creatures. The dark hallway lighting up with a combination of bright green and red.

The creatures were fast, and their hunched over forms proved hard to hit as they closed the distance between themselves and their prey. It was as if the group had kicked a Cazador nest and had an entire hive rushing them from both sides. Veronica rapidly fired green bolts towards the hallway, aiming low to the ground in hopes that it will hit something. The Plasma Caster's projectiles sometimes going through multiple targets. However, the weapon's low ammo capacity proved to be detrimental, as with every reload the creatures got a little bit closer to them. Parmley fared no better, as he already dropped a good chunk of them, the creatures just crawling over the bodies of their fallen with ease. Rushing them with almost no reprieve.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Parmley yelled over the gunfire, feeling the heat of the Gatling Laser start to seep through his arm. "Cooper stay behind me!"

Suddenly, the wall next to them burst open and a set of long, scaly fingers stretched out and grabbed Cooper by the leg. The dog yelped as he was jerked off the floor and began to be pulled towards the hole and the maw of a hungry mutant.

"Noooo!" Parmley yelled, grabbing Cooper, and being forced into a tug of war with the scaly abomination.

Veronica fired toward the hallway until she noticed what was happening behind her, seeing one of the creatures try to get Cooper and bringing the Plasma Caster's muzzle up to its head. However, the weapon only clicked, the Microfusion cell drained of power, so she dropped the big weapon and balled her a fist with her new pneumatic gauntlet. She delivered a lightning fast punch down on top of its head, but while the force was usually strong enough to cave in a human skull, the skin felt like she punched a boulder and only disoriented the creature enough to let go of Cooper. She kept retaliating, delivering a fast flurry of punches down onto the creature as its cranium helplessly bounced against the hard floor until its head lay in a pool of its green blood. Its stone skin now fractured.

With that done, she turned back to face the hallway but saw one of them was already in the middle of pouncing at her. Then, hearing a bark, a wave of sound-energy collided with the creature and sent it reeling to the floor. It let out an awful high-pitched screeching noise as it flailed on the ground, a liquid pouring out of it pointy ears. Veronica instantly knew what to do.

"Rex, speak!" she commanded, pointing towards the hallway. "Down there! Now!"

With a ruff of acknowledgment, the cyberdog began sending concentrated barks of energy down the hallway, making the ground and walls shake with every reverb in the enclosed space. It seemed to be working, however, as some of the creatures began collapsing onto the ground screaming in pain or running away from the noise. Parmley glanced back to watch what was happening, but in his negligence, one of the creatures got past his line of fire and jumped at him. A large hand swiped the front of his armor and carved three long claw marks into the hardened piece of ceramic-metal armor, almost effortlessly.

"Goddamn!"

However, before the creature could attack again, the Tesla coils along his right leg activated and started sending bolts of electricity towards the mutant, making it spasm uncontrollably and shriek in pain as it was electrocuted. That pleasantly surprised him, but having enough of this, Parmley activated the weapon on his other wrist and a large spurt of hot, blue flame rocketed out from the nozzle and set the creature on fire. It let out a terrible scream and the ones that were approaching stopped in their tracks and looked away from the burning hot blaze that lit up the entire hallway in a brilliant shade of blue. He wasn't going to let them get away, though, guiding his arm and spitting fire towards the rest of the pack and setting them ablaze. Feeling the heat of the flame through his helmet, he watched as the rest of them scrambled in agony and tried to get away. Some of them burrowing through the ground or walls but it was already in vain from the significantly hotter fire.

"Burn, you fucking muties! Burn!"

Veronica's Plasma Caster ran empty as soon as one of the creatures got uncomfortably close, so she dropped the energy weapon and punched it in its face as soon as it dropped. The force of the Power Armor making the Saturnite Fist stronger and deadlier. As she rotated her body to get ready to punch another, her fist accidentally crossed paths with Parmley's flame and she immediately retracted her hand from it. However, rather than expecting damage, she saw the fist still maintained its shape but now glowed as hot as magma. Another creature was about to attack, so she wasted no time in striking it with her fist and watched as it was set aflame as it was knocked back a few feet.

"If it works…"

With one last shrill, the creatures began to die off and collapse to the ground like flies set on fire. Then, as Rex kept hammering the hall with his voice, the structure gave out and the ceiling collapsed in front of them, crushing the ones under the rubble and blocking the rest. Everything becoming quiet on their side, they looked back to see Parmley finishing his side and saw nothing but dark, scaly, charred hides across their side of the hall, either from the red lasers or the blue fire. The T-51b's wrists going silent and falling to the side, seeing the heat radiate off the metal arms. For what felt like the longest time, the group stood there in the middle of the hallway, their weapons still smoking but still readied in case there were more of the bug-eyed bastards. There just was only silence and the sounds of their ragged breathing.

However, the rubble on Veronica's side began to shake and tremble before a hole popped open and one of those creatures poked their ugly mug through it. Veronica got her Power Fist up again, but she heard a large clanking noise behind her.

"Okay, fuck this…" Parmley tiredly said, grabbing the rocket system, and tilting it over his shoulder, the weapon now parallel to the ground. "Guys, stand back."

Without protest, Veronica grabbed the dogs and ran out from the school. Seeing the scaly bugger try to get through the space it created, Parmley watched as a small rocket flew from the weapon on his shoulder and detonated on impact, leaving a green mess. However, he could still see other glowing eyes in the small tunnel they made and began sending rockets through it. The rapid-fire rocket launcher rocking the school even more and obliterating everything in its way. Finally, the tunnel collapsed once again and buried anything with it in more rubble. The hole finally falling silent. With that done, he propped the rocket system up and walked outside to the others. Seeing Veronica kneeling next to the dogs and trying to comfort Cooper, who whimpered as he licked his bleeding hind leg.

He was about to speak but, suddenly, there was another shrill scream from an unseen abomination. Sounding like it came from the hallway next to them, outside of the Testing Area. More than hesitant, the two in Power Armor exchanged looks with each other, unable to see their eyes under the helmets, but they silently agreed with each other and Veronica was the first to walk over there – the others soon in tow.

They took a right onto a small hallway that was perpendicular to the entrance of the Testing Area and came across a hydraulic door at the end where they heard the noises coming from. It wasn't just screaming; there were sounds of scraping, scratching, and clattering happening behind the door. It sounded like they were, even more, packs behind the door, doing God knows what. The face of the X-01 looked at the T-51b, the set of three diagonal gashes in the metal armor very prominent. Without another word, Veronica plugged a fresh MF cell into her Plasma Caster and opened the door. As soon as it slid into the ground, the two in Power Armor were the first to burst through and had the muzzles of their weapons up. However, their eyes widened in surprise under their helmets as they froze and couldn't believe what they ended up seeing.

They were in what appeared to be a kennel, with cages that housed the very creatures they just fought in the other room. Kept in there like lab rats.

"What the hell…" was all Veronica could say as she dropped the Plasma Caster and took her helmet off, seeing the site with her own eyes.

As she looked around, she saw the creatures in cells or cages that weren't made of rusty, old bars, but of a clean forcefield with a blue tint. The cell interiors still had scratches and damage done to all of them, most likely from their captives gnawing and clawing at them for a long time. There were a group of Robobrains patrolling around the cages and either doing maintenance or tending to the occupants – who clearly weren't happy about being locked up. She heard something crash against the cell to her left, jumping and turning to see one of the scaly mutants try to burst through the forcefield and towards her. Banging against the barrier clearly inflicted pain on the prisoner, but it kept trying to charge at her. Clawing at the energy-field to get to her with five long bony fingers tipped with knife-like nails. The ex-Scribe could only stare at the abomination, as it screamed at her and swiped against the field voraciously. She looked around to see all the cells occupied by the same creature, how restless and hungry they all were. Filling the kennel with a terrible collective of screaming, running and spinning in their cages like feral animals. However, she noticed some of the cages were empty, except for the holes in the concrete that was big enough to fit a full-grown man. One of them even had the remains of a dead Robobrain, its mangled body reminding her of the Robo-Scorpion from earlier. She looked back at the closest to her, again, still trying to lunge at her through the metal barrier. Staring at its glowing bug-eyes… Glowing eyes? Where has she heard that, before?

"Wait…" Veronica said, shaking her head in disbelief and pointing at the monster in the cell. "This… Th-this is the monster Sunny was talking about in Goodsprings?! These are the things that have the NCR and the Brotherhood all shook up?! What are these things?! Why the hell does Nathan have them in cages?!"

Parmley was unable to answer any of the questions Veronica just posed, in the same state of confusion and disbelief as her. He looked to see Cooper hiding behind his armored legs, not wanting to venture out further into the kennel with the rest of them. Then, hearing meat being ripped and torn, looking at one of the cells to see it being occupied by three of the creatures, two of them cannibalizing the corpse of their third cellmate.

"Jesus…"

"We need to get out of here and find Boone," Veronica said, stomping out of the kennel as fast she could. Parmley and the others followed her without debate, shutting the kennel behind them and leaving the shrieking screams of the specimens.

It didn't take long for them to reach the outside of the facility, but they found it was already nightfall, the glowing blue light of the Think Tank shining in the distance. However, they didn't find Boone but just a series of mounds that were burrowed into the ground and the corpses of their creators lying next to them, their heads bearing gunshot wounds. Veronica began to panic as she saw the 1st Recon sniper's red beret on the ground with him nowhere in sight.

"Oh no…" she whimpered, almost feeling herself begin to tear up. "Boone!"

"I'm up here!" a voice called to them from behind.

They turned around to face the building, but they looked up to see their Sniper literally on the roof of the building with his rifle. His bald head glistening in the moonlight without his usual headwear.

"Oh God," Veronica said, relieved. "I thought we lost you…"

"Not yet," Craig replied, still looking down to the ground. "I was providing watch for you guys like I said when those things just sprang out from the ground. Been up here, since. What the hell are they?"

"I don't know but that's why we're going back to the Think Tank. They have some explaining to do…"

* * *

With their little quest done and making the trek back to the dome, careful of where they were stepping, they eventually made it back to the central facility and were now in front of the Think Tank demanding an explanation for what they saw in the school and in the kennels, and uncover just what those things are and why the man they were searching for had them in cages in the first place. The scientists were more than happy to answer their questions. However, the more explanations the search party was given by the floating brains in jars, the more they wished they hadn't even asked.

" _Tunnelers_ ," Veronica repeated after them, now out of the Enclave armor and standing before the Think Tank with her hair looking like a rat's nest. Her eyes exhausted from earlier, but keeping herself up for the answers she wanted. "So, that's what they're called…"

"Precisely," Dr. Mobius said, simply floating a few feet from the woman, the rest of the Think Tank behind him. "A rather innocuous name for such a savage abomination."

"But… Are they as dangerous as you say they are? Enough for Nathan to have entire packs cooped up in cages for experimentation and research?"

"Indubitably so, unfortunately. And it wasn't us who deduced the threat these creatures would prove to the surrounding Wasteland, but Nathan. He was the one who informed us of them."

"Yes, but… Where did they come from?"

"There are theories and speculation about their origins posed to us from Nathan and other sources, but their home is ultimately in the remains of the town of Hopeville. What you Wastelanders today call 'The Divide'."

Upon hearing the name of that dreaded place, Veronica looked back to see Parmley and Boone standing behind her, their faces frozen like stone with all the news they were being told. Not liking any of the answers being given to them, not because they were wrong, but because Nathan  _was_  in the Divide. The entire shit show they've been through now making sense.

"Why are these creatures such a threat?" Veronica pressed on, wanting to know everything they should know.

"Have you not seen?" Dr. Borous asked, his voice booming as he began to explain what they are capable of. "The Tunnelers are fast, agile, and strong. They have thick, scaly hides perfectly acclimated to their subterranean environments and require the strongest of weapons to even leave a dent. They travel in packs and use ambush tactics, capable of taking down even the strongest predators in the Wastelands. And most crucially, they reproduce at a rate to make even ants envious. Their aversion to light is the only thing hampering their expansion beyond their homes. Even with all of that, they very well could be considered the Post-Nuclear world's near-perfect killing machine. There is a reason we gave you the equipment we did, the equipment specifically designed for taking on the subterranean creatures - designed by Nathan, himself! However, I speculate the reason the escaped subjects outright charged you was because of hunger and desperation."

"And when you say expand… We're already beginning to see it, are we?"

"Yes, but what is troubling is not the fact they're expanding, but the rate at which they are," Mobius explained, sounding somewhat dismayed in his tone. "From the simulations I've run upon the first time Nathan informed us of the Tunnelers, I incorrectly concluded that it would take much longer for them to even make an appearance in the Mojave."

"How long was it supposed to take for them to reach the Mojave?"

"From my calculations, it was supposed to be ten-plus years. From what you've told me, they've already reached the Mojave in less than  _half_  that time."

The three Wastelanders collectively shuddered for what that meant for them. What that could mean for their home. What that could mean for the Mojave. All the progress made in the Wasteland up to this point being wiped out by an unknown threat from the ground. From where people would least expect it: below.

"We  _have_  to find Nathan," Veronica stated, their rescue now being given another purpose. One very important for the Mojave. "He's the one that knows these things best."

"Agreed," Boone said, getting close to comfort her. "This is really starting to get out of hand."

Parmley stood to the side, unsure what to even think as he held the brim of his hat in between his fingers and watched the two. Fidgeting with the leathery material as he silently thought about all the events that had transpired; From what was supposed to be a simple rescue mission devolving into a saving the world scenario. The very last thing the Ranger wanted it to turn into. He then felt a wet snout push up against his thigh and gazed down to see Cooper looking up at him, whimpering and with a bandage wrapped around his hindleg. All he could do was pet the dog atop his head.

"We'll find him, Coop," the Ranger said, not forgetting the promises he made. The debt he had to repay to Courier 6 on behalf of the Rangers. "We've made it this far. Not gonna let a bunch of lizard people in the ground fuck all this up."

"I APOLOGIZE IF THIS NEWS IS A BIT… DISTRESSING TO HEAR," Dr. Klein, his loud voice trying its best to be comforting. "BUT I ASSURE YOU, WE'LL FIND BRIN. AND THIS ENTIRE SITUATION SHOULD, HOPEFULLY, GET BETTER THAN IT CURRENTLY IS."

"We can't thank you guys enough," Veronica expressed, at least knowing there's some light shining in the darkness.

"DON'T MENTION IT. WHEN NATHAN'S BACK, HE'LL HELP DEAL WITH YOUR SCALY RELATIVES."

That made everyone freeze in their boots and stare at him, their eyes as wide as a Tunneler's. Possibly learning something they never wanted to know. Something more surprising than learning what Ghouls or Super Mutants originally were.

"WHAT?!"


	40. Reflection

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

" _Beeep!"_

A high-pitched beep echoed throughout the shooting range – from a much wider booth in the middle of the shooting line – and almost in the blink of an eye, a Marksman Carbine went off with three shots in succession. As swiftly as he lifted his gun and fired, the Courier flipped the selector switch to "safe" and brought the barrel down to face the floor. There were three holographic targets before him in the range, a gunshot wound on each of them, all hitting directly center-mass. Accuracy wasn't really his goal for this range trip, however, his shots simply landing on target being good enough in that regard. Instead, he wanted to work on the speed of his draw. Firing off his shots rapidly, his hands operating his weapons skillfully. He waited until a blue hologram appeared from the shooting bench and displayed a set of numbers.

"00:01.53"

"Dammit," Nathan grumbled in his helmet, disappointed with the time.

He ejected the magazine from his weapon and placed it on the table, then retrieving another mag with rounds in it. It was lighter than average, clearly not at full capacity, but he inserted it into All-American and let the bolt slam forward to chamber the first round. He pressed a few buttons on the table to reset the targets and the stopwatch. Getting back into shooting position, he held the rifle against his chest, muzzle pointing to the ground, and finger straight off the trigger. His eyes stared at the three red targets, eyeing them, and mentally preparing himself. Tightening his grip on his rifle. Waiting.

" _Beeep!"_

Simultaneously flipping the safety off, getting his finger on the trigger, and raising the barrel, Nathan fired off three more shots in rapid succession towards the three targets before flipping the safety on, getting his finger off the trigger, and lowering the barrel. All three targets bearing wounds in center-mass, again. Fast enough to miss in a blink, but he wanted specifics. Waiting until the blue hologram popped up, again.

"00:01.02"

'Better, but not good enough,' he lamented, ejecting the magazine and going to retrieve a fresh one.

"That's some fast shooting, son."

Nathan turned his helmeted head to see a black mask with a thin red eye looking at him, leaning against the booth divider next to him. Not wearing his signature leather jacket indoors, going for a more casual look with a simple grey shirt and grey tactical pants. That seemed unlike him, coupled with his appearance on the base and in the open.

"I suppose," the younger man responds, resetting the shooting gallery and his rifle clicking with a new round in the chamber.

He gets back into his stance, readying himself again and eyeing the three targets. Paying little mind to who was standing a few feet to the left, silently watching with eyes concealed behind that red visor.

" _Beeep!"_

Nathan flipped the safety off and lifted the muzzle, as if it was second nature, and had already fired off the first two shots noticeably faster than before. As he drifted his barrel to the third and last target, he squeezed the trigger but froze as the muzzle didn't flare up for a third time. Only the audible click of the hammer striking the firing pin echoing throughout the room. The shooter eased his stance, peering over to the right side of his gun, and looking at the breach to see the bolt still closed. Grumbling, he removed the magazine and flipped the safety on before pulling back on the charging round and ejecting an unspent cartridge onto the bench. He picked the gold casing between his thumb and finger, looking to see the primer with a faint indent from the firing pin.

"Goddammit."

"Light primer strike?" Morrison asked, not moving from his spot.

"Light primer strike," Brin answered, tossing the dud round onto the bench. "Or faulty primer. I don't know."

He leaned against the shooting bench and unslung his rifle from his torso. Placing it on the bench, prominent scratches and damage greeting him. It no longer bared a scope and had some generic iron sight attachment Nathan found before promptly slapping it onto the railing. It seemed to be properly sighted in, but as mentioned before, accuracy was the least of his concerns.

The American Soldier craned his neck, looking at the badge painted onto the left side of All-American's magwell. Two white A's in a circle of blue, then surrounded by a maroon square, with the word "Airborne" in white above in a blue rectangle.

"Why're you here, Morrison?" Nathan went straight to the point, casting a gaze towards the red visor.

"I wanted to talk about the mission to Guizhou, what happened at the Ecopoint," Jack answered, that red line across his visor unfazed.

"Gonna wail on me for fucking up, huh?" Nathan began to shake his head side-to-side. "This soon? It's not unwarranted, I'll give you that."

"No, that's not why I'm here."

The Courier's ill-smile fades, looking up at Morrison with doubt in his eyes. Again, it was hard to read the Soldier's face with that mask over his face. Only ever seeing his actual face on one or two occasions.

"I thought you wanted to talk about Guizhou?" Nathan asked.

"I do," Jack responded. "I already know what happened. How fast it went it went south when  _he_  appeared, but that's not why I'm here."

"Then what did you want to talk about, then?"

"What happened with Mirembe."

Nathan just stared at him for several moments before dismissingly grunting as he went back to the shooting bench and fieldstripping All-American, already separating the upper and lower receivers. Next, taking out the bolt carrier group and inspecting it, while Morrison still leaned against the booth and addressed him.

"I heard what happened with her and you. What you did while under fire," the Soldier went on anyway. "You really didn't have to do that, you know? The fact you even did is rather telling."

"You going to pin a medal on my chest, then, old man?" the Courier quipped, not bothering to look up. "Or court-martial me?"

"No, that type of stuff is long gone for me. What I'm saying is that I don't think I'd know a lot of people who would outright do that. For a corpse, I mean."

"Not even Amari? I'd imagine she would try to lug you around if you had a big crater in the side of your head."

"I'm sure she'd be an exception."

"What makes my situation special, then?"

"Not much, at least in my old eyes. The others, though? They're not going to forget what you did anytime soon."

Nathan paused, looking up from the bench to look Jack in his red-eye and black mask. His own red eyes unmoving and unfaltering for the duration of the gaze, before he breaks eye-contact and looks down back down at his carbine.

"I didn't do it for them," the Courier spat out.

"Bullshit," the Soldier retorted. "Why else would you do it?"

"The guilt festering inside of me, I guess. Whatever the hell that sinking feeling in your gut is. Or, maybe seeing pretty women like that just doesn't feel good. Of course, that's what I drink alcohol for."

Finishing that sentence, he clasped All-American back together and made the bolt slam against the chamber with the pull of the charging handle. Everything in good order for the most part.

"Now, let me ask you something," the Courier began, turning to face the Old Soldier straight in the eye. "Why do  _you_  care? For the entirety I've been here, you've been scarcer in this base than a whore in church. You rarely take that mask off, and I only ever see you with Amari or close-by to her. The fact that you're here, next to me, is baffling. You're 'calling' is more synonymous with you than your name. If you're really a part of this organization, then where the hell have you been? Why would you care for Mirembe?"

"Because back when Overwatch was a well-oiled machine, I used to be her squad leader  _and_ her commander, that's why."

Nathan's eyes widened, clearly not expecting that answer from him and caught off-guard by how sudden the answer was, as well. The scratched-up helmet hiding his expression from the Old Soldier. Then, they heard a faint buzzing noise approaching from behind and saw Hana walking into the range with her earphones blaring music, holding a carrier for her pink Light Gun along her forearm as she held her pink phone in her hands, too enamored with what was on the screen as she blew a piece of bubble gum from her mouth before it popped.

"Hi, Uncle," she greeted as she passed Nathan, then passing by Jack. "Hi, Dad."

"Uncle's" gaze follows her as she went further down the booths until occupying spot on the other side of the room, far from them. Plenty of space in the largely empty gun range. As Nathan just stared at her, more than taken aback by the sudden name-calling, he broke out of his trance as he heard a low chuckle emanate from Jack and see him slightly shaking. That mask hiding his amused expression.

"She's calling you 'Uncle', now," he said, shaking his head as if to act somewhat disappointed. "How 'bout that? You probably would've seen that coming if  _you've_  been looking around, which I've apparently not been doing."

The taller man grumbles under his masks as he went back to tending to the things on his shooting bench. Jack then looks out at the targets Nathan's been shooting as if seeing them for the first time.

"What're you doing?" he asks.

"Working on my draw," Nathan answers, begrudgingly.

"Well, you definitely seem fast now. Especially with a rifle. Kind of reminds me of my younger self."

"Would you believe me if I told you I was once faster than this?"

"Was?"

The Courier peered down to the back of his right hand, displaying a set of scars that covered his skin like paint on canvas. Twitching his fingers to reaffirm that he still had a sensation within in them. The same could be said for the other one, concealed by his Pip-Boy's glove. Then, without warning, Nathan's left hand slammed a button on the bench before his shooting hand went to his waist and speedily drew his SIG and fired off three shots towards the holographic targets as fast as a Deathclaw's swipe. Morrison's head snapped to the targets, seeing his shots had expertly landed on all of them in the short timeframe. After a few moments, the barrel of the handgun still smoking, a hologram popped up and displayed the time of his shots. McCree surely has some competition, he thought.

"00:01.32"

"Was," Nathan admitted, putting his gun back into the leather.

"What happened to the 1911?" Jack asked, noting his sidearm was different.

"Lost it, thanks to the Blue Bitch."

"Ah, sorry to hear that. I know what it's like to lose something like that… Well, I hope you don't choke on it, Brin. I'd know what that would feel like, too."

The ex-Commander finally got off the divider and walked away from the booth, giving the tall Waster a pat on the shoulder. Leaving the Courier alone in the booth of a shooting range quieter than normal.

* * *

After an hour more at the range, Nathan began to wrap up his practice as he was summoned to Winston's office. However, feeling a bit lazier than usual, Nathan hoisted both All-American and his gear over his body instead of dropping them off at his room, beforehand. People didn't seem to mind as he walked through the hall, his carbine dangling from the strap on his chest. It was a nice change of pace, so he didn't pay much mind to the others, either. Going through a hallway, there was a man in a jumpsuit before him, walking in the other direction and staring down at his tablet. The tall Waster was just going to walk-by until the man looked up and saw him.

"Afternoon, sir!" he said.

Nathan almost froze in his tracks out of surprise before nodding to him and letting out a grunt of acknowledgment. Good enough, as the man happily went on his way.

'Huh,' Brin thought, certain he was starting to become well-known in this tiny base built into a rock. 'That better not get annoying.'

Finally, Nathan reached Winston's laboratory to find him on the ground floor and looking at something on one of his workbenches. The Gorilla Scientist looks up and his eyes light up upon seeing who just came. That wasn't normal.

"You're here! Great!" Winston exclaimed, getting off his stool and lumbering over to him. "I wanted to discuss something with you-"

"You're requesting me here to take a gander at my equipment?" Nathan cut him off. "Or ask me to fetch something for you? Or to fix something you very well could've figured out? Or brief me on a dangerous mission you're going to send me on?"

Winston's cheery expression disappeared in that moment, replaced by an awkward, wide-eyed gaze.

"Uh… No, actually, none of those things…"

"…Oh…?"

"Yes… I, uh… Actually, want to give you something!"

The Gorilla's demeanor tried to get back to feigning a smile, again, but they were already well beyond that point. Nathan just standing there and staring at him, skepticism very much present on his face.

"Er-what?"

"Our deal!" Winston explained, awkwardly chuckling as he scratched his head. "I, uh, realized I haven't been really honoring my part of the deal and haven't really given you anything of value while you sacrificed a great deal for us. I want to change that today, even if it seems very long overdue. So… I want to show my thanks!"

"…Okay?"

"Okay!"

Winston gaped at Nathan with a big toothy grin, his canines prominently glinting in the light. Nathan just narrowed his eyes at him, wondering if this was some weird joke. They kept staring at each other for several long, awkward moments until Winston's smile faded, his eyes darting side-to-side, then clearing his throat into a closed fist. Nathan just standing there with his face scrunched up in uncertainty.

"So, uh, here it is!" Winston turned around to the workbench, picking something up, and presenting it to the tall man. It was a rectangular, metallic device that had a dim blue light in the center with black nylon straps that went through it and wrapped around. It looked like a very tacky belt with a brick buckle that was slightly skewed. The Waster already did not like its aesthetic.

"Umm, what the hell is this?" he asked, wrinkling his brow.

"It's a holster! A magnetic holster to be more precise," the Scientist explained, two large thumbs then pressing a button in the middle and watching it flicker to a bright blue.

"I already have straps for my guns, though," Brin responded, grabbing the base of All-American's leash, and dangling it in the air. "Why would I need another holster, nonetheless, a magnetic one?"

"Well, with the way I designed this holster, I made it so that you wouldn't need to a have a strap for each one of your long guns and that they could all share the same spot. Saving you space and time! It can store around three guns and makes holstering and unholstering a breeze. A demonstration would better articulate this, and I already see you brought one of your rifles with you. So, want to try?"

Winston held out his gift to Nathan, who still regarded the piece of equipment like he would a dead Radroach in the middle of a rusty shed. However, he was already there, and it wasn't like a holster was going to kill him… Hopefully. The man sighed as the Gorilla kept looking up at him, expectantly.

"Fine," he said lowly, ejecting the magazine from his carbine and clearing the chamber to make it safe for the demonstration.

"Great! Just tell me if there's anything that needs work," the Scientist said, handing the device to him.

Unclasping All-American from its strap and laying it on the workbench, Nathan then grabbed the magnetic holster and lifted it over his shoulder to wrap it around his chest. As he does so, he notices the straps begin to fasten by themselves and the metal "brick" on his back began turning like a gear, before stopping and setting itself parallel with his spine. When it lay snug against his body, he glanced at Winston who gave him a thumbs-up and a goofy grin. Wasn't reassuring in the slightest. Then, carefully, he grabbed his carbine by the stock, lifted it over his head, and brought it to the magnetic block. He felt the gun fall from his hand before it stuck to the magnet with a metallic clank. He peered over his shoulder to see that it was hanging from his back, magnetically kept in place on the brick. Nathan shook his body, jumped around a bit, and watched the strap bounce without the gun itself falling off. When he lifted his shooting hand to grab it, he was surprised to see the holster twist at an angle perpendicular to his hand and "lift" the gun up close to his hand, the grip closer as a result.

"Huh, handy," Brin said, somewhat surprised by the ease as he grabbed his gun. Despite being his first "gift" in this exchange, he felt it was a bit lacking in terms of utility, technology, and everything. "But, uh, when it came to the deal I wasn't really expecting… This."

"Really?" Winston earnestly asked. "Well, I've been working on it for some time, I thought you'd like it. I had Athena help analyze your combat routines and thought that holster seemed like the most helpful piece of equipment I could give you at this time. Was quite difficult trying to fit in the time for it, with everything else I had to juggle around. What don't you like about it?"

"It's not that I don't see the use for it," he responded, placing his carbine back on the holster to assess it further. "It just seems a bit paltry compared to what I've been giving you for the duration I've been here."

"Ah… I'm sorry for that, then. Did you have anything else in mind?"

"Something a bit more substantial than a holster. For example, I remember Vaswani using a shield one time when we got shot at. Wouldn't happen to know how to do something like that?"

"A shield…? Yes, I might be able to do something like that. I already have a similar device, but I've never considered applying it for individual use."

The spectacled Gorilla brought a hand up to his chin and rubbed in thought before his face lit up and he spun around to his workbench. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. Already scribbling a paragraph on it. Nathan looked over his shoulder before rolling his eyes and going back to testing out his new holster. The seasoned Wastelander will admit that it was easier than swinging a standard sling. If there is one thing he learned wandering in the Wastes, it was the importance of conserving space… And the speed of his draw. Then, as he repeatedly holstered and unholstered his carbine with the brick, it was on an attempted unholster that the gun suddenly decided not to budge. He seized up, giving the carbine a few hard tugs with his shooting hand, before grabbing the stock with both hands and doubling his effort in trying to wrestle it loose from the magnetized brick. The muscles in his arms and stomach bulging slightly as he pulled harder. Finally, he set it free from his back by accidentally snapping the strap and slamming the barrel of gun against a workbench and smashing equipment or sending some of it crashing to the ground. Winston spun around in surprise and looked to see Nathan wielding the rifle like with the block stuck to it.

"I think it needs a few more kinks worked out," Nathan observed, examining his makeshift bat.

"I-I see. Sorry about that," Winston replied, walking up to the device and taking it into his hand. "I'll take care of this. You can go if want."

"You sure you don't need anything else?"

"Nope, I'm all set here!

"You sure?"

"Really, you don't have to do anything for me, now. Go have fun!"

Nathan narrowed his eyes at Winston before shrugging it off and making his way to the exit to find himself a drink.

"Just don't fuck up my gun too much."

"Actually, Nathan, I forgot to say-," Winston called out, Nathan getting ready to have the rest of this day ruined by the mutant ape. "Uh, thanks."

The Courier opened his eyes in confusion before turning around with a perked brow.

"For what?"

"For Mirembe. For what you did for her back in Guizhou."

"… I don't want to hear it," he growled before turning around.

Winston's smile faded away as soon as the Courier said that, watching him stomp away from his lab and disappearing through the rock doorway. He looked down at his hands to see the green tiger-skin rifle with the magnetic holster, noting all the wear it had.

"It's all my fault," he sighed, sulking his shoulders.

"Don't be like that, Winston," Athena said, her voice echoing throughout the lab. "He's just having a hard week."

"Because of me. I authorized the mission to Guizhou and lost three of our own as a result. I never planned for something like this when I initiated the 'Recall'. I never planned for most of this, and yet, here I am, trying to act like a poor man's Strike-Commander. I'm not surprised he hates me. I don't know how Morrison could do this for decades…"

"And being hard on yourself like that is not going to improve our current situation. We are only a few months into the 'Recall' and you're already acting like we've lost everything. We still have operatives and agents counting on us, Winston; You're not going to leave  _them_  in the rain, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"I thought so, and don't worry yourself with Nathan too much. He can be a pleasant soul with the others, I've seen it. And he'll lighten up to you someday, I'm sure of it. I've made the calculations."

"I hope you've verified them, then."

"I did, multiple times."

Winston smiled slightly as he heard that, before looking down at the green carbine. Innocently, his mind began to examine and evaluate the weapon. The Scientist was more than curious to see how Nathan could prove to be so effective with such antiquated designs, the rifle in his hands no exception. It already looked fairly worn, and any improvements to the weapon platform could only bolster its performance on the field. It's the least he could do.

"Athena, can you pull up any sites that may still sell attachments and accessories for this type of weapon? At an affordable price?" he requested, working to get the holster off.

"Pulling up results now. Shall I browse the listings on 'Congo' or specialized sites?"

"Congo, first. I have a Chief membership, so there might be a sale."

* * *

Long after that exchange in the lab with a talking Gorilla, Nathan found himself out on the street markets of Gibraltar, occupying a lone table with a pair of aviators over his eyes to hide from the sun. The bearded man took drags from a cigarette as he leaned against the table on his elbows, nestling a frosty bottle of beer in the other hand. He found a nice spot along the road next to the beach, giving him a lovely view of the Mediterranean Sea and the sun as it was getting close to setting along the horizon of water. He would've gone out with Bastion if the big robot wasn't already busy doing something with Mei. Didn't take away some of the enjoyment he felt sipping a beer, watching the sun, and listening to the waves. He could do this for hours on end, but it wasn't every time he had the luxury of a beach to sit at. The man's peace was disturbed, unfortunately, as he felt his table shake a little on the other side and saw a furry, brown face of a monkey who decided to perch on the chair across from him.

The Waster's seen these furry critters around the rock at times when he's gone out, learning upon his research on the Internet that they were called "Barbary Macaques" and that they were a major source tourism for Gibraltar. An odd thing to be enamored about, he thought, especially when he learned that they were quite opportunistic thieves. He didn't need to learn that to not trust anything with thumbs.

Not wanting his smoke break to be ruined, the man vigorously kicked the chair the primate sat in and made it scramble across the street. He accidentally made the chair fall on its back, however, causing a groan from him as he got up from his chair to fix it.

" _Relájate, wey_ ," a Mexican-accent from his left suddenly piped in as he watched a tanned woman with purple highlights walk by and knelt to the chair. "No need to be so rough."

After placing it back on its feet, Nathan watched as she sat down and hunched over the table, propping her elbows on it and resting her head in her hands. Looking up at the tall man with dreamy, purple eyes, wearing a purple bikini that showed a lot of skin other than a towel wrapped around her waist.

"Of course, you can be rough with me," she said with a lustful smile.

"María…" the Californian recalls her name as he stares at her in the eyes, feeling a knot build up in his throat.

"Hey, James," the Mexican greets back, tilting her head and resting it solely on her right hand, her purple nails glinting in the sun.  _"¿Me extrañaste?"_

"Uh…  _Un poco._ "

"You're a terrible liar."

Despite saying that, María kept smiling as she reached across and grabbed the neck of his beer bottle. "James" didn't protest, silently tracking her with his eyes as she retrieved the beer and brought it to her side. With one swift movement, she swung the bottle upwards and locked her mouth onto the beverage, drinking about half of its contents before letting it go with a smack of her lips.

"Ahh," she let out, refreshed, putting the bottle back on the table. "Good choice. Not a bad drink to share with friends."

"Glad you like it," he replied, grabbing back his bottle, and taking a quick glance at it. "So… What brings you to this rock?"

"Same reason we met back in Numbani – Work," she answered, clearly not enthused about her reason for being in Gibraltar.

"Really? How's that working out for you?"

"It can get annoying and I always hate adjusting for time zones, but that's life, I guess. At least it's  _almost_ like a vacation on the company payroll."

"You never told me what your work was."

"I work for an international organization. We have assets everywhere, and I handle logistics, mostly. What about you? What are  _you_  doing here?"

The Latina leaned forward onto the table, getting a bit closer as she looked up at him. Nathan regarded her for a few moments before taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the cloud to the side.

"Same reason as you," he explained, purposely being vague as he tapped his cigarette above an ashtray. "Working for an organization that requires me to be here."

"What's your role?"

"Security, mostly."

"You're not really doing a good job if you're here indulging in vices, then."

"Eh, it's my break and they don't need me right now. Besides, you're one to talk, Ms. 'sleeps with random strangers at bars'."

"Hey! You were that 'random stranger', remember? Jeez, I thought I would be more than a one-night stand to you."

"I still remembered your name. That would already put me a step above most other guys, wouldn't it?"

María peered up at the smoking man, addressing him with an earnest gaze.

"…I guess it would."

Then, she cracked a little smile as she crossed her arms over the table and leaned forward more. Nathan kept smoking from his cigarette but noticed the way she sat and positioned herself on the table made her chest pop out more towards him. Her bra the only piece of clothing covering her breasts, yet still exposing a lot of skin. He glanced up from them to see her face staring off into the distance to her right, trying her best not to look at him as her lips twisting into painfully coy smile. The purple lights on the shaved side of her head starting to glow more profoundly as it started to get dimmer outside. Nathan could only laugh as he tapped more ash off his cig.

"You're as subtle as fucking dynamite," he said, holding out his hand and offering a drag from his smoke to her. "Showing off your tits like that.

"Thank you, and no thanks," she responded, declining the offer with a shake of her hand. "It's not like you mind, do you?"

"Not really."

"Thought so. How have things been?"

"Bearable."

The two then continued talking to each other for some time, long enough for the sun to finally set beneath the waves. Even when it was dark out, it wasn't enough to deter them from keeping a conversation. They discussed normal, casual stuff everyday folk would casually talk about; Where they're from, how their day's been, and what are the best alcoholic drinks to have in bed. Could've been the beers, could've been the prospect of more sex, but Nathan was possibly more talkative in this instance with María than he has been the entire week. Entire month even. He felt a bit guilty about casually lying to her face. However, he wouldn't be the only party guilty of such deceit.

After about an hour, as they were in the middle of a conversation about Mexican food – which the New Californian was keenly interested in – a noise rang from María's side and she reached down to retrieve her phone which lit up in the early evening. When her eyes read who was calling her, she immediately rolled her eyes and let out a disappointed sigh.

" _Maldición…_ " she cursed under her breath, then looking up at "James". "Looks like I'll have to cut our chat short. It's work-related."

"Heading off, then?" he asked.

"Well, not without giving you this."

She got up from her chair and went around the table to hand him a small piece of paper. Nathan looked at it, seeing a group of numbers scribbled on it with her name next to them. Barely recognizing it as a phone number, from his limited use of telephones back home. They weren't nearly this long.

"I'm going to stick around for a while, so if you ever want to…  _Hook up_ ," the Latina whispered into this ear, hugging the tall man from behind and brushing her head against his. "Call me.  _¿Entiendes?_ "

" _Entiendo,_ " the Californian responded.

" _Bueno_. I'd kiss you on the lips to say goodbye, but you stink of  _fuma_. So, this'll do."

María gave the bearded man a long, exaggerated kiss on his cheek with a very audible "mwah", then letting him go as she began walking away. She waved goodbye to him, James returning the gesture to her.

" _Adiós_ ," he said.

" _¡Adiós!_ " she exclaimed, before finally turning her back to him and walking away with a sway in her hips.

The Waster watched her go before he eventually lost sight of her as she turned right on a corner and was gone. He sat there for a while, trying to peer through the crowds and see if she would appear again. Adjusting himself in his chair, he planted his elbows on his table and looked down at the ashtray, where his lit cigarette still smoldered.

" _Stercore_ …" he muttered under his breath, picking up the stick and pulling hard from it, filling his lungs with a cloud of tobacco. Then, expelling the cloud into the air before taking a swig from his beer and polishing it off. However, as he sulked further into his smokes and booze, someone came into view in front of him. Where María was a minute earlier.

"Well, ain't you a lucky sonofabitch!" Manuel greeted, sitting in the chair opposite of him with a hearty smile. "Tagged a nice little number back there, did'ya?"

The Waster brought the bottle, clearing his throat as he threw it dropped it beside him before going to the pack.

"Tagged? Sure. Lucky?" Nathan questioned, grabbing another bottle from the pack and twisting the cap open. "My spurs ain't jingling, that's for sure."

"But are they jangling?"

The Waster casts his eye up at him when he said that, before his mouth stretches into a slight smirk. Taking solace that someone in this world seemed to be knowledgeable about music that didn't grate his ears. Wishing he had brought the tape with him so he could blast some tunes from Kay Kyser with his beer, smokes, and beach.

"So, came out to enjoy the beach?" Nathan asked, puffing more smoke from his mouth. "And find a hot little number, as well?"

"Just the beach," Manuel answered, pulling out his own pack of smokes. "Already have a little number of my own back home."

"Oh, sorry. Didn't know."

"You don't have to apologize."

Nathan was about to take another pull from his cigarette until he suddenly felt something jump up on his chair and his cigarette got swiped by a small, furry hand. He rocketed up from his chair and saw the rear-end of a monkey already scurrying halfway down the street with his cigarette in one of its paws. The tall man wanted to give chase, but it would've been a futile endeavor as the little thief was already scaling a wall and roof before jumping out of view. As the robbery victim stared off into the distance, Manuel was laughing his ass off.

"Fuckin' A!" he tried to say in between fits of laughter.

"Little bastard!" the Waster roared, baring his teeth and clenching a fist. "If one of them tries that again, I'm gonna field dress it and eat it!"

Manuel kept laughing as Nathan kept seething. A few more raucous tremors and slaps against the tabletop until he began to speak words, again.

"Goddamn, that little critter reminded of the fuckin' pickpockets back home."

For some reason, hearing that made the New Californian's anger subside a little as he looked back to his table-mate. Recounting similar encounters in his travels through California.

"Yeah?" Brin earnestly asked.

"Yeah," the Californian answered. "Especially after the war and especially in the rural counties, like out in Modoc or near Redding, things seem like the Wild West. Not always, but more than I'd like it too."

Nathan regarded him for a few moments before deciding to sit back down in his chair. Still a bit flustered and now wary of any little primates that'll try sneaking up on him.

"I haven't been home in a long time," Nathan says, facing him. "How is it like now?"

"Not that much better, I'm afraid," Manuel honestly admits. "The cities and metropolitan areas have been doing better, I think, but the rural parts I feel like are stuck in the past. Governor says he been working on it, but I'm not sure I believe that fuckin' blockhead."

"Hmph, when has that been different?"

"Yeah…" Manuel agrees, before leaning against the table and tapping some excess ash into the tray. "So, I heard what happened on that mission to China. How're you holdin' up?"

"I'm drinking, smoking, and feel like eating a monkey… I'm also armed," the Courier admits, adjusting himself in his seat so he doesn't constantly feel his pistol digging into his skin.

"Just another day in the office, huh? You know, there are better outlets than trying to kill both your lungs and liver."

"Like what?"

"Trying to kill both your lungs and liver with company. How does that sound?"

Manuel then bent down and picked up a bottle from the pack, holding onto the moist glass bottle as he admired its features. He looked Nathan in the eyes before tipping the beverage towards the larger man, close to his beer bottle. The New Californian looked at the beer bottle before shrugging and clinking his bottle against the Californian's. They had time to kill.

* * *

Ministry of Genetics, Oasis

In the dark halls of a facility in an oasis in the desert, a doctor tended to a lone patient in her office, locked away from the rest of the world whenever she conducted work. Especially work that would be considered less than  _ethical_  by some people's standards. She didn't bother herself with what she considered trivial notions, but like most doctors, she did believe in tending to those in need. Whether they wanted her treatment or not.

The doctor, a lanky woman with a pale complexion and fiery-red hair, worked almost blissfully as she manipulated tools and equipment that were years ahead of anything the world could possess in terms of medical applications. Waving the tools much like a conductor would their baton for a symphony. Maybe a bit too blissfully, as her patient writhed in pain, his cloud-like aura puffing heavily for a moment.

"Urgh!" the Reaper grunted in pain, his claws digging into cushion. "O'Deorain-!"

"Calm down, Reyes," the doctor with composure said, not deviating from her task. "I promise I won't take much longer."

Reaper was laid out before her on a medical chair and twitched in pain from a series of glowing green stains that coated his body like scabs. The doctor learned his current condition was the result of a type of grenade that used a form of energy like "plasma", but a few hundred degrees hotter than anything that is fielded today. So powerful and so potent, it was able to severely damage the phantom-like anatomy of her patient. It was still treatable, but she wanted to collect some of the green "sludge" for her own research. Much to the masked figure's displeasure.

"Moira!"

"Just a few more samples, Gabriel. This is worse than when that mutant-Gorilla shocked you with his Tesla cannon.  _Much worse_."

"I can –  _ahh_  – tell!"

Suddenly, the computer desk next to them blinked with a holoscreen and they both look to see they were receiving a call. Bearing through the pain, Gabriel sat up from his chair and Moira stepped back clearly annoyed at the interruption. Even with glowing green patches of plasma radiating off his body, the ghost went through the effort to attend the call. It was an important one, to him.

"It's her," Reaper said in his gravelly voice. "I need to answer."

"Make it quick," Moira said, setting some of her tools aside. "This green goo is  _melting_  your molecular structure."

Reaper growled in pain and agreement, before leaning forward and stretching out a silver claw towards a button on the screen. The screen flashed, showing video-feed of a tan-woman with one half of her head shaved and the other dyed with purple highlights, in a dimly-lit hotel room. Curiously, she was dressed in a bikini. She looked up at the feed with a smile.

"Hey, Gaaaabe!" the woman greeted as if she was calling old friends. "Sorry, I haven't been answering earlier. How're you doing? Did you get my 'get well soon' card?"

"Yeah, I did…" the masked figure said, peering to a table to see the card, with a cute cartoon of a teddy bear holding a red heart with the message floating over it. Moira rolling her eyes as she impatiently tapped her foot on the floor. "What's your status, Sombra? And what're you wearing?"

"I was at the beach, Gabe. What else would I wear?"

"Hmph."

"Anyways, I was able to contact our little… 'Friend'. Well, he's not really little, he's actually pretty freaking tall."

"So, you saw him – the man with the gauntlet? Can you confirm that it's him?"

"He didn't have his black armor with him, but he certainly did have that 'Pip-Boy', as he calls it. So,  _sí_ , I guess it's him. Hanging around Gibraltar with it. You never told me how nice it was here,  _viejo_."

The robed-figure hummed in thought, finally getting confirmation on this man in black armor. A cohort of some sort of Overwatch. The Reaper did make note of the strange name for his device but quickly pushed that thought aside.

"Stay focused," Reyes commanded, trying to get her to get back on track. "Does he suspect anything, about who you are?"

"No, he's still pretty clueless. Heh, he probably thinks I don't know his real name. Good thing that  _taradita_  had a big mouth back in Numbani."

"Noted. Maintain you position and keep a low profile, for now. Update me with anything you find about him or Overwatch. Especially about him."

"That's what I've been doing for the past couple of weeks, but, aye-aye,  _¡Capitán!_ "

Sombra gave a mock salute, bringing her right hand to her forehead before the video feed flashed to black. After, Reaper body sulked as he sighed lowly. The dark slits of his mask looking down at the laboratory floor.

"You really need to instill more discipline into her," Moira said, walking up to his side. "I would've expected more from the ex-commander of Blackwatch."

"Then, you should've remembered the other  _dissidents_ , and how well that worked," Gabriel responded, lying back down in the medical chair. "Sombra's smart and capable but acts like a teenager at times. Rebellious, and out for her own agenda."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, she's had sex with the very man we're trying to spy on."

Moira did a double-take, snapping her eyes to her patient with a very incredulous expression. Very much surprised, yet very much curious about what she had just heard.

"Was that necessary?" the Geneticist questioned.

"It helped us dig more dirt on him and Overwatch, but I had a feeling she used the opportunity for more 'recreational' purposes. Without my authorization or anyone else's. As you'd expect, we lost contact with her from the evening to the morning," the Reaper explained. "I need to keep her on a tighter leash."

"Hmm, well whatever her appeal is in this ' _Nathan Brin_ ', he has certainly become a significant person of interest for us."

"You think I haven't noticed?"

"I'm sure everyone here has, but speaking personally, he may be an interesting subject for me to  _analyze_  when the opportunity comes."

As the red-haired Geneticist went back to work, treating the plasma-burns on her patient, her lips curled into a grin. Becoming excited at the prospects possibly being presented to herself in the upcoming future, regarding the man in black armor. What secrets he may possess for her. Some of his actions have certainly warranted such examination, and he is probably less human than he appears to be at first glance.

"Oh, we have much work to be done," she said, before blissfully attending to her tools, again.

The Reaper noticed her sneering, as subtle as her fiery-hair or his glowing-scabs. He snorts and turned his head to the side.

"I'll give you some privacy when you do."


	41. Into Wasted Lands

Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

Nathan was walking down the corridors to the mess hall, hoping to fill up on some grub. It was quiet where he was, not a lot of people out. The Waster was quite content with the silence, hoping it stays this way. So, of course – as this Universe demands whenever he enjoyed something– that silence was broken as blue flashes blinked across the hallway behind him and the tall man felt something jump on his back.

"Hiya!" Lena greeted as she locked her arms around his torso and her legs around his stomach, like a monkey.

"Oxton?!" Nathan barked, more than caught off-guard as he looked back to see spiky hair. "The fuck are you doing?!"

"Hitching a ride. Gonna nip on over to the mess hall, right?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"I'm heading there, too. Need some company?"

"Are you going to get off of me?"

"Nope!"

Nathan visibly sulked and audibly groaned as Lena didn't relieve her grasp, remembering the last time she grabbed him like this that he beat her lights out, both literally and figuratively. Also remembering how that turned out, so he was a bit more restrained this time around. He didn't like how comfortable the Brit was getting with him – probably a bit  _too_  comfortable – but that's probably the price he paid for being on a few missions with her. As he began fearing for the future of this reoccurring, he sees McCree swaggering next to them, stifling a laugh.

"I guess it was just a matter of time," the Gunslinger expressed. "See, Lena likes to do that to anyone who's taller or bigger than most. Winston's a favorite target of hers, being a gorilla and all."

"I can tell," the tall Waster replied, glaring daggers over his shoulder, only to be met with a grin. "Goddammit."

"Aww, don't be like that!" the bubbly Brit responded. "Just leg it on over to the caff so we can get ourselves some nosh to murder!"

The New Californian jerked his head slightly as he just listened to what came out of the Englishwoman's mouth. Trying to decipher her word choice and unsure if any of those were real.

"…What?" Brin asked.

"Ah, I'm just taking the piss, mate!" Oxton gleefully exclaimed. "I'm just saying we should get some lunch."

"…Right…"

Lena just laughed more as Nathan grumpily resumed making his way to the mess hall, Jesse tagging along. Fortunately, her small frame wasn't much of a challenge for him to carry over that distance, weighing less than the packs he usually hoisted. Unfortunately, this backpack could talk. A lot. Thankfully, mainly talking to the American in the hat.

"So, what have you been up to, Trace?" McCree asked.

"Eh, not much," Oxton answered, shrugging. "Hung with Winston in his lab, listened to some of Lucío's new tracks, and helped show Genji's brother around the place. Oh, and I did spend some time with Hana, going out to the beach."

"Really? Must've been nice."

"It was, then we spotted Nathan and his girlfriend."

The man she held onto like a chimp jerked and looked over his shoulder, glaring more daggers.

"Wait, girlfriend?" Jesse exclaimed, looking up at him in disbelief.

"She's not my girlfriend," Nathan stated, resuming walking.

"Who?"

"Some nightlight-tart he met back in the mission to Numbani," Lena explained, from a certainly bias position. "Now she's in Gibraltar, for whatever reason."

"She's here for work, same reason she was there," Nathan interjected. "Now, quit busting my balls about it before I purposefully trip backwards."

"Busting your what?"

Before the conversation and gossip could get zestier, the three had gotten to the mess hall and saw it was crowded. However, something was off as most of the occupants were concentrated in the middle of the large room with most of their backs to the newcomers. Something in the center grabbing everyone's attention.

"What's all the fuss about?" McCree questioned.

"I can't really see anything, even from up here," Lena said, still holding onto Nathan as she tried to crane her neck and look over the crowd. "Brin, what about you?"

The tall Waster had better luck peering over the crowd, seeing that there were individuals in the middle of it that seemed to be the source of all the attention. Then, he noticed a head with long black hair tied into a neat, orderly bun. He recognized who it belonged to.

"Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath. "Oxton, get off."

The Brit looked up at him, before nodding and doing what she was told, for once. Without wasting another moment, Nathan marched towards the crowd and made his way through to the center. Easily parting through it, he finally got to the middle and sees who all the attention was focused on – Lúcio and Satya. The former was on his feet and had his hands on the table, scowling at the latter, who just calmly sat there and addressed him as she ate from a salad bowl. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument, Lúcio currently taking the spotlight with his rambling. Nathan more than surprised to see the DJ as anything other than chilled.

"…I'm just saying, I have a hard time trying to understand why  _you're_  here," the DJ stated, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "Doesn't really make a whole lot of sense to me."

"I would possess the same question about you, Mr. dos Santos," the Architect responded. "Why this organization of professionals would recruit a street-ruffian like you is certainly cause for concern."

"I don't like tooting my own horn, but I've cared about the people of Rio more than your precious Vishkar ever did!"

"You're not nearly as much of a hero as you are a thief!"

As the crowd around them began to mumble as they listened, Nathan stepped into the inner circle and brought all eyes to his large frame.

"Okay, what's going on?" he questioned them both.

"She's  _Vishkar_!" Lúcio exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "She's not supposed to be here!"

"And he's an anarchic hooligan, who would very much break the law in the name of this 'freedom' he proclaims," Satya bit back.

"Okay, you two don't like each other. That's clear," Nathan keenly observed. "And while I can't claim to be an expert on whatever's got both of you riled up, I'd at least suggest keeping it less public, next time. You guys are literally the center of attention, right now."

"But aren't you listening? She's from  _Vishkar_! Y'know, evil megacorporation and all that?"

"I'm aware, and I'm not a fan, either, but complaining about it isn't going to make her fizzle out of existence. If both of you have a problem, take it up with the Gorilla. Otherwise, both of you shut the fuck up and don't bring anyone else into your shit."

"Mr. Brin has a vulgar choice of words, but I agree," the Vishkar Architect concurred, looking the Brazilian Musician straight in the eye. "There are more civilized and productive ways to discuss things, Mr. dos Santos."

"Man, whatever," he responded. "As if I'd expect you Vishkar types to change. But I see your point, Nathan. I'm sorry, bro."

Then, the Californian heard feet shuffling behind him and turned to see the crowd parting again for the even larger frames of Winston and Reinhardt, arriving a bit late to the party.

"Lúcio! Satya! Is there a problem?" the Scientist asked.

"None, Mr. Winston," the Architect was the first to respond as she got up from her chair with an empty bowl. "We've just finished our discussion, and I was about to attend to my duties. Good day."

She left, but not before exchanging a quick glance with Lúcio, less than pleasant expressions on both their faces. After she made her way through the crowd, Reinhardt walked into the middle of the circle.

"Okay everyone, the show is over!" he exclaimed, his booming voice more than enough to get everyone's attention. "Move it! There is nothing to see here, now."

The crowd then began to disperse, until no one stood around the table except for Winston, Reinhardt, and Nathan. Lúcio had left, as well, disappearing among the crowd in his skates. Nathan saw him wave to Lena as he skated past.

"Well, I have to worry about that, now," Winston groaned, facepalming. "At least you're here, Brin. I have something to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Nathan let out.

"Yes, but let's grab something to eat, first."

After the group had gotten themselves lunch, Winston, Lena, and Jesse sat on one side of a table while Reinhardt and Nathan sat opposite of them. The Waster indulged himself on a meal the German had suggested to him, consisting of a fried sausage covered in sauce with a side of a thin, fried potato strips. The spice burned his tongue with a pleasant, meaty flavor, and the "fries" were a nice addition. The heat not bothering him in the slightest, especially compared to the likes of Radscorp-casserole. Certainly not enough to distract him from the subject of their conversation, which was a briefing.

"So, I'm being sent alone on another mission?" the Waster asked, chewing away at his food. "Where?"

"That's what I was getting to, and why I'm also a bit anxious," Winston answered, helping himself to a big salad bowl.

"How come, big guy?" Lena then questioned, looking up at her big friend.

Winston regarded her for a moment, looking more than concerned. Nathan noticed how nervous he acted even before the group sat down. Something about this mission had him worried, and he would like to know why. The table didn't have to hold their breath long.

"To put it bluntly, I may have to send you to the Australian Outback," Winston finally admitted, earnestly making eye-contact with Nathan.

Lena went wide-eyed, Reinhardt looked up from his currywurst, and Jesse accidentally inhaled a piece of food and began coughing as he banged his metal fist against his chest. Nathan just sat there, chewing on sausage.

"Umm…" he let out, making them all stare at him. "The Outback's a desert, right? Sounds like something in my league."

"Yes, it may be that, but the Outback was also the site of a nuclear reactor detonation, turning it and the surrounding areas into an irradiated wasteland," the Scientist then curtly explained.

"Oh," the Wastelander simply responded, a faint memory of the interrogation with Dr. Ziegler popping up. "It'd still be fitting, then."

"Just to be clear, this is not a confirmation that I believe any of the things you told us  _that day_. However, since you still are adept at many things and have proven to be excellent covering great distances in harsh terrain, I felt this mission would be best suited."

"When you put it that way, it might… What's the MacGuffin this time?"

Winston produced a holopad and placed it in the middle of the table before the device projected a hologram of a monolithic structure with red metallic walls, sectional spires that went high to the sky, and dozens of rail lines that protruded from gaping maws in its hull. Appearing to be a fort of almost immeasurable scale, taller than some skyscrapers.

Winston started to explain, "This is an-"

"Omnium," Nathan finished for him, surprising the Moon-Gorilla and some of the other tablemates.

"You know?"

"I've been doing some research on the  _Google_. Surprisingly handy tool. So, yeah, I know what this thing is, but I didn't know there was one in Australia. Must have glossed over that."

"Then, I should inform you that this isn't its current state.  _This_  is."

With a swipe of his hand, the hologram then flickered to show the same structure as a mangled carcass of metal. Looking like a flock of vultures ripped into it, steel bones jutting out into the air. The damage looking familiar to anyone versed in nuclear detonations.

"Years ago, a group of Omnics was given permission by the Australian government to settle their own home in the Outback. Unfortunately, this ended up displacing the human populations who had already occupied the land. A violent rebellion ensued, and the result was the Omnium fusion core being damaged and detonating from the inside."

"Irradiating the place to hell in the process."

"Precisely. However, even though its main source of power was destroyed, we do have reason to believe that there may still be some cells of still-usable energy, kept away from the rest of the world. Watchpoint: Gibraltar has its own reactor, and while we are not going to experience a power outage anytime soon, acquiring another source of power could help significantly bolster our capabilities."

"And I'm going to get it for you."

"Yes, you seem to be the most capable candidate for this mission. And yes… You may be sent alone for this one."

"Is that really necessary, Winston?" Reinhardt questioned his friend's judgment.

"I'm trying to cover our tracks as much as possible, even out there," Winston's face twitched uncertainly. "However, he will be sent alone to meet-up with someone who could guide him to the remains of the Omnium. Someone who knows this place well, and may help retrieve the fusion cell we would need… I think."

"You 'think'…? Who?"

"Someone who's been… Messaging me, to my surprise. I'm not too sure this person even has the right idea or why they've been trying to contact me so frequently. Still, if Nathan wants someone else to tag along, I will happily-"

"No thanks," the Courier interrupted, waving off that notion. "I'm good."

The rest of the table staring at him in near-disbelief.

"Are you sure about that, Brin?" McCree asked, narrowing his eyes uneasily at him. "I've been to the Outback before and I-"

"No thanks,  _vaquero_ ," Brin said, finishing off his currywurst with one more bite. "I'd rather go in at my own pace there. No need for me to weigh others down."

"That is dangerous thinking,  _Ödlander_ ," Reinhardt interjected, looking down at him with his one eye. "You will be out there by yourself, with no one else to immediately fall back on. Are you sure that is what you want?"

"I could use the alone time. Things'll be more thorough if I head out that way. It won't take long."

The other four all exchanged unsure glances with each other while Nathan looked up at the hologram of the Omnium ruins, before reaching up to touch the projection and spin it around to get a look at the rest of its ruined exterior. Then, just swiping it with one finger and watching it spin in place like a top until settling down.

"Just point me in the right direction."

* * *

Nathan was at the hangar, sitting on a crate in his Desert Ranger uniform with his pack by his feet and his rifles by his side – minus All-American. The ship behind him was prepped and ready to go, but he was told to wait for something before heading out. In his boredom, he held his Ranger Helmet in his hands, the red eyes looking back up at him. On the left side of the helmet, he felt his fingers along the four claw marks scarred into the metal. It didn't hamper structural integrity much but left another permanent reminder for him. A more prominent one, at least. His fixation upon the claw marks was disturbed as he felt a shadow cast over him and looked up to see the white coat of the blonde Doctor.

"Dr. Ziegler," Nathan said as he placed his helmet aside and stood up to greet her. "Hey!"

" _Grüezi_ , Nathan," Angela greeted back, smiling up at him. "I heard you were going to be sent off on a mission."

"You did, huh?"

"Yes, and I also heard  _where_ you were going to be sent."

"…You did, huh?"

"Yes, and as you'd imagine, I'm more than worried about you."

Nathan shut his eyes and let out a low grumble, before opening his eyes to sincerely regard the Doctor.

"You don't have to, Doctor," he firmly stated. "I'll be fine. You do remember who you're talking to, right?"

"I do, but that still doesn't set me at ease," she responded, shaking her head. "There might be things in  _that_  wasteland that you're not accustomed to. I've been there, before, when we first heard of the Omnium's explosion. I was one of the first responders of Overwatch in the relief mission, and the thing's I've seen there were…"

The usually eloquent Doctor paused, stopping in the middle of her speech as she tried to find the proper words to convey herself. The tall Waster calm demeanor shifted after seeing that, feeling a small knot form in his gut. Watching her trouble herself with him even when she didn't need to.

"Just be careful, Nathan," Angela finally said, looking up at him with sincere blue eyes. "That's what I'm trying to say."

"Of course, Dr. Ziegler, of course," Nathan responded, bobbing his head up and down. "I promise."

Her face lit up for a moment after he said that, Brin glad to see a welcoming expression from her.

"Pinky promise?"

The Waster watched as the Swiss woman suddenly brought one of her hands in front of her but only had the smallest finger stretched out into the air. He perked a brow at the gesture, glancing up at Angela to see her with a quaint smile, and looking at her pinky again. Sighing, he brought up his right hand and wrapped his pinky around hers, dwarfing it.

"Pinky promise," he said, holding onto it for a few moments before separating.

After that exchange, they heard Winston lumber up to them with one of his arms up against his chest.

"Sorry, I'm late," the Scientist apologized. "Hey, Angela! Came here to wish Nathan farewell?"

"I did," she said, noticing he had something in his hand. "What are you carrying?"

"Glad you asked. They're gifts for Nathan."

Winston held out his hand and showed what he was giving to the Waster. One of them was the magnetic holster, but the other was an AR rifle with the same forest-pattern camo as All-American. It looked different than when he left it days earlier.

"What the…?" Nathan as he grabbed that first, examining it with his eyes and hands. "What did you do?"

All-American gained a significant makeover; its owner noticing that it now had a new scope with an iridescent red line on top its body, a somewhat longer barrel with a shroud that was thinner and more skeletonized, an upper receiver with a charging handle on the left side instead of the right, a little lever connected to the bolt-catch that snaked down to the top of the trigger guard and close to the magazine release, and a new trigger that wasn't as curved as the last one. The things left unchanged were the stock, grip, camo, and decal.

"Modified it!" Winston answered, gauging Nathan's reaction. "At least, I think we did. I had Athena order a bunch of parts online for your weapon and see how we could optimize it to its highest combat-effectiveness. I'll be honest, I'm not familiar with weapons of a ballistic nature or old designs, so I had to do a lot of research beforehand. So… What do you think?"

The Californian blankly stared at him for a few moments before looking down at his weapon and began fiddling with it. Racking the bolt with the new charging handle, swiveling the muzzle to feel its weight, and peering through the new scope to see a glowing red arrow reticle with black markings for windage and elevation around it. His eyes getting narrower the longer he operated. Despite being a very generous action on Winston's part, Angela already began wincing as she peered at the Gorilla and feared for him, certain that the large man was going to start berating him for modifying his rifle without consent.

"I kinda like it," Nathan then said, genuinely catching her off guard. "It feels light as a feather, this lever to operate the bolt is convenient, and this trigger…"

His gun clicked as his trigger finger twitched, and clicked again after he racked the bolt. A satisfying little noise without fail.

"Never felt a trigger so crisp. Thanks."

"You're welcome!" Winston gleefully said, rubbing the back of his head. "Was a bit difficult trying to find the parts. And expensive. If you still want to switch your rifle back to its original configuration, I still have the kit and the parts."

"I think I'll stick to this for a while, break the new parts in," Nathan said, lowering the rifle, and addressing them both. "I guess it's time for me to head off now."

"Unfortunately," Dr. Ziegler sighed. "Good luck, Nathan! I wish you the best."

"Thanks, Doctor."

Nathan Brin gathered the rest of his pack and weapons, the rifles now slung over his back and sharing the same holster. A bit heavy, but more convenient than giving them all a sling each. The armored Waster clambered up but turned to look at Winston and Angela, the two watching him go.

"Hey, Dr. Ziegler," the New Californian called out, grabbing her attention. "How would you say 'good luck' in German?"

"Oh?" the Swiss woman let out, before thinking for a moment. "You would say ' _Viel Glück_ '. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious.  _Aufwiedersehen,_  Doctor."

" _Widerluge,_  Brin."

With a final nod, Nathan climbed on board the small ship before its door shut closed and began lifting itself into the air. The Scientist and the Doctor stayed on the ground as the ship got high up and thrust off into the sky, going far away from the base. When it was finally out of sight, Winston sighed and nodded to Angela before walking away from the landing pad. However, the blonde stood there in the same spot for several moments, staring up at the spot in the sky where she last saw Nathan's ship disappear, clasping her hands at the front of her waist. After about a minute, her gaze dropped to the floor, her blue eyes unsurely staring at the concrete. Finally, Angela closed her eyes and let out a long, exasperated breath before turning around and making her way back to the infirmary.

* * *

The New Californian Wastelander looked out from the window to see a large expanse of desert dotted with shrubs and trees no bigger than him. At first glance, this patch of land didn't look too different from the Mojave, except for the ground being a tint more orange. However, he knew there was more than shrubs and sand out here, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He took one more glance over his shoulder to his new sling, making sure it was snug against his body.

The ship hovered closer to the ground and the door slid open, Brin promptly jumping out and having his duster flap around in the orange sand swirling around him. His helmet's radio sparked to life with the voice of the pilot.

"Good luck down there!" the pilot wished him before the thrusters started kicking up more sand.

Just a few seconds later, the ship quickly rocketed up to the clouds. Without its shade, he felt the Outback sun hit the back of his duster. Getting accustomed to the heat he's felt somewhere else.

'That's more like it,' the wanderer thought as he stood up to take a good look around.

The Australian Outback didn't look too different on the ground, but the first thing that struck the Californian was the endless horizon. Seeming as if it went off into the ends of the Earth for an infinite stretch of miles. He expected the Outback to be a desert, complete with minuscule vegetation and uncomfortable heat, but he didn't expect it to be so flat. Not a hill or mountain to be seen obscuring the horizon. Yet, that was before he turned around and saw a large mesa far away, almost blending in with the mirage. Being the only mountainous structure in view, it appeared massive and had a top that looked shaved flat. However, he could make out protrusions coming off the mesa's top. Man-made structures.

'How long is that?' his wandering brain began scrutinizing, estimating the distance. 'Two, three hours walk at a brisk pace?'

The Courier made one glance at the map on his Pip-Boy, then reaching up and having All-American's grip thrust into his hand. Taking one step forward, he began making his way to the large mesa. To the only visible pocket of civilization in this wasteland. Not too close to any radioactive zones.

'Easy.'

There was only a sea of shrubs and dirt between him and the mesa, walking much of the trail quiet. Listening to the sounds of this desert, mainly the slight breeze whistling over his ear and his feet crunching over dirt. As loud as it was desolate, the Waster was fine with this for a while. Still a bit careful of any other sounds not of the desert. Although, half-an-hour later, the mesa in the distance only got marginally bigger.

Holstering All-American, he reached down to his Pip-Boy and pressed a button, twisted a knob, and spun a dial to tune into the radio. See if there was anything to pick up out here. The choices were as barren as the land; only two stations to listen to, one of them only producing static. However, the other station he could tune to and listen in on. With a click, the voice of a female radio announcer echoed from the speaker, her accent reminding him of a Great Khan back home. She spoke as virulent as a Great Khan, too.

"…round all the  _clankers_  up, sending them to their  _Iris_!" the radio announcer proud fully declared over the radio, her newest viewer getting a taste of the local culture. "And when their shiny hulls became the mortar of our city walls, we supplanted our right to live on  _our_ land. The irrits out by the coasts can throw all the judgment and condemnation they please, we ain't like those bloody poms!"

"Were some of those words?" Nathan let out, furrowing his brow as he listened.

"But what good is anything they say? Out here, it's our land, our chaos, our _score_! And what do we all say, my fellow  _Junkers_?"

" _No job too big_!" the audience in the background erupted. " _No score too small_!"

As the radio began to erupt in applause and cheers, the Waster's hand went down and switched it off, already tired of the show.

"If I wanted to listen to maniacs ramble on the radio, I could have stayed at home," the Courier let out, grumbling as he shook his head.

He knew before setting foot on this continent that it wouldn't be the heat or the fauna he would have to worry about, but the people. What more could he say? It was always the people he had to look out for. The problem probably worsened by the place becoming an irradiated waste. Yet, he shoved that thought away for the meantime, focusing back on the mission.

As another half-hour passed, it looked like he had gotten closer to the large mesa than when he began, but the boredom began to seep back in. Not wanting to listen to a mad woman's propaganda again, he reached into his pack to pull out a holotape and insert it into his Pip-Boy. With an energetic press of a button, the speaker burst to life again with the strumming of Western guitars.

"I'm goooooiiin' under, getting oooooover you," the vocals started out, in an enthused yet gloomy tone.

"I'm goooooiiin' under, drowning iiiiiiiiin these blues," Brin began to sing along, not faltering his pace.

The song went on for the duration of his jog, Nathan not missing a single verse until it ended, and the tape went on to the next song in the playlist. Some songs helping to regulate his breathing.

* * *

A two-and-a-half-hour jog later, Nathan had finally reached the base of the flat mountain monument, and then after another forty-five-minute walk scaling the damn thing, he finally reached the pocket of civilization that could eke an existence out here.

Nathan first walked through a little village that was outside of the city walls. It almost seemed like something from back home; Ramshackle buildings made of repurposed sheet metal and wood, random piles of trash scattered along the ground waiting to be pilfered, and run-down cars dotting the way. It seemed quiet, devoid of anyone, and the Waster went further along the trail. Finally, he came into view of the main entrance to this city.

The front entrance was a towering, corroded mess of a gate, with a pale-green paint job that was either peeling or overtaken by rust. There were guard towers situated on top of the wall, and two large chains that dug into the ground with equally large gears that flanked the gate on both sides. Right above the door was the creatively named sign of the home for these "Junkers", with even more large gears situated above. The Courier, having been spoiled by more attractive cities, thought it looked like shit.

Since the gate was closed, the large Waster walked up to it and gave it three strong pounds of his fist. He stepped back and waited for a response. A hinged window on one of the towers creaked open as someone coughed.

"Who is it?" a man questioned, unseen from the ground.

"Just a traveler on the road, who would like to go into your fine city," Nathan bluntly answered, dripping with sarcasm.

"Eh? You a  _yank_? What are you doing here, outsider?"

"Business."

"Queen's got no business with your kind. No one here does. Beat it!"

The window slammed closed, leaving Nathan standing there in the sun and looking up at the tower. He shook his head looking down at the dirt, before walking up to the gate and knocking on it for a second time. Waiting a little longer until that window opened, again.

"Are you still there?" the guard yelled.

"Yeah, and I still have business in this place," the Californian remarked.

"Am I supposed to care?"

"I don't know. You like pushing away opportunities literally on your doorstep?"

"Opportunities? The hell you on about?"

"What I'm saying is; What kind of person would walk to the middle of nowhere, far away from actual civilization, to this rusted shit cattle prod of a shantytown, if the price of their business  _wasn't_  that great for the effort?"

"…You selling us something?"

"I might if you let me in."

The guard became silent after the visitor gave his answer, Nathan taking this opportunity to go further.

"Don't know how much this place gets in terms of tourism," he said, turning his back to the gate and looking at the empty expanse of the Outback. "But I'm sure some imports would do it some good. Me being one of the couriers."

"Eh, I see your point,  _seppo_ ," the guard begrudgingly admitted, saying that last word rather scornfully. "If all you're after is business I'll let you in. I couldn't be fucked, either way. But you better not cause any trouble inside! Lastly, the Queen doesn't allow anyone to carry without her say so, so you're going to have to leave your guns behind."

"You have a locker, then?"

As soon as he asked that, a large metal crate burst from one of the towers and nearly crushed Nathan as it plummeted to the ground in front of him. Looking at the container, he saw ropes tied to its sides that led up to the window it was thrown out of. Going up to it, Nathan lifted the lid to see a pile of weapons filling the container, almost to the brim. A lot of them looked handmade as if they were a weekend project in someone's garage. Pistols made of more wood than metal, relics that seemed to be older than their users, and literal pipes for rifles. He was sure farmers and ranchers back home were better equipped than these Junkers.

"Really?"

"If you don't like it, you can hit the road!"

The New Californian rolled his eyes and groaned, before unfastening the strap of his holster and depositing all his long guns into the box. He then reaches to his waist, unfastening the holster for his sidearm and placing it alongside his rifles. Finally, he reaches to the back of his pants and grabs the leather of his knife but stops as he looks up at the guard tower and around him to see if anyone was looking. Letting go of the sheath, he slowly retrieves his handgun, minus the holster, and shuts the container closed with a thud before getting lifted back into the tower.

"You'll get 'em back when you leave," the tower guard said, Nathan not entirely convinced.

Then, the gears and chains on either side of him began to move and the large, yellow blast door slid up to reveal another set of doors. The gears above the sign began moving as well as the other sets of doors opened, the earth trembling slightly with every reveal until the last blast door slid into the ground and opened up to him.

"Welcome to  _Junkertown_ , mate!" the guard exclaimed, before hacking a cough.

"I feel honored…" the Courier mumbled, before finally setting foot within this city in the Outback Wasteland.

Immediately, Nathan was greeted by a dirty, grimy street where more decrepit metal structures were built along, clearly with little regard for anything beyond spacing. Looking up, he could see many of the building were boxes stacked on top of each other, precariously placed with questionable foundations. Disorganized webs of wires and cables hung over the streets, more of an electrical hazard than a utility. Vendors and storefronts he passed were literal holes in the walls. And a musty stench hung in the air, rotten. He didn't expect to find Vault City inside but didn't expect most cities in New California to look better than this. His hometown of Arroyo already leagues above. If it looked like a shithole on the outside, the inside was the rectum of that shithole. He wouldn't put it any other way. The detonation must've happened more recent than he thought if this place was still scrounging a living at best. However, it would be the denizens around this place that were truly a remarkable sight on their own; One comparison Brin could, unfortunately, make with some people back home.

Many of them had clothing that was either stained, torn rags or a mishmash of whatever they could find to cover themselves. A lot of their outfits reminiscent of what hopped-up raiders would choose for evening wear – random covering of metal that might pass for armor, decorated with spikes, chains, bones, or anything regardless of practicality. In summary, he couldn't think of anyone back home dressing like these mongrels unless they were some prostitute outside of a New Reno casino or some downtrodden bum rambling about talking rats. Yet, for once, Nathan might be able to fit in with the crowd through appearance alone instead of blatantly standing out, but some of the stares he received quickly dashed that notion. Wasn't sure if he was recognized as an outsider in this bumfuck town, or the fact that he was completely covered head-to-toe in actual armor caught their eyes, but the whispers were clearly about him. This time in English, or whatever this Australian dialect was supposed to be.

"Oi, who's that swaggie?"

"Fuckin' big bloke, ain't he? Brick shithouse is what he is."

"That coat makes 'im look like a bloody bushranger."

"Gronk."

'Those aren't words,' the New Californian thought to himself, more confused than mad at the names he was being called. 'I thought Oxton sounded funny…'

He kept walking through more of the dingy scrapheap of a city, ignoring the whispers of the Junkers going forward. That didn't mean he wasn't wary of them, as his eyes shifted from pedestrian to pedestrian. From a man with pink spikes for hair to bums sleeping on cardboard coverings. He was supposed to find his contact, however, and might have to start asking the locals whether they knew who he was looking for. Wasn't dying to meet with them in the slightest. Passing by one or two citizens expelling their bodily contents onto the street in plain sight.

Turning another street corner, he was about to make his way past some other vagrants until a scantily-clad woman with hair as orange as the Outback sauntered up to him. Nathan's eyes went to her chest, not because she was sporting something impressive, but because she was using a pair of small traffic cones as a makeshift bra. This place certainly dripped with taste, but girls in Freeside had better fashion sense.

"Hey there, big fella," she greeted, putting on some faux attraction in her eyes. "You look like fun. Wanna have a root with me? Won't cost much."

"No thanks, miss, I'm good," Brin heartily declined, at least learning a new slang word for her work.

"Aww, are you sure? I might give you a discount for that voice."

"…Pardon?"

"Your accent, honey! I haven't heard one like yours around here for a long time. I wouldn't mind if you whispered something into my ear, buttery smooth. Now, you still going to walk away or need I more convincing?"

Nathan almost scoffed under his helmet, well-versed in hustling to know a discount for his accent seemed a bit much. However, he thought about something as she looked at the woman who's been in this city longer than he has. Probably been out on the streets more than most, given her occupation. She probably knew a thing or two. Not a bad start.

"Maybe you can provide me something else in exchange for this voice," he spoke with a slightly heavier inflection in his speech. "A couple answers for a couple questions I have, please? Won't take up too much of your time. How does that sound?"

"Do I look like a brochure to you?" she asked, disappointed that was all the customer wanted.

The outsider then produced a single gold coin from his pocket, holding it up and making the sun bounce off it. The girl's eyes lit up as she saw it before he flipped it to her.

"One coin, one question," he simply said.

"Alright, I guess," she said, stuffing it into one of her cones. "You're more polite than most bruisers around here."

"Splendid. First question: do you know where I can find a 'Jamison Fawkes'?"

"'Jamison… Fawkes'…? Nah, sorry sweetie, never heard of him."

If only things were that easy for him.

"That's a shame," he stated, producing another coin and flipping it to her. "Second question: know of a place I can head to for a drink? Maybe one where the people like to chat?"

"Hmm…There is a pub not too far from here. Might find something there."

She pointed to the far side of the street, Nathan looking where she might be directing him. Spotting out the possible point of interest, seeing some activity just outside the door.

"I see," the Californian expressed gratitude, giving her another coin before turning away. "Thank ya' kindly, ma'am. I'll be out of your hair, now."

"Wait!" the working girl said, making him stop and turn to address her. "If you're gonna go in there and start mouthing off, least I can do is warn you. They might not take kindly to you asking about certain things, especially you being an outsider. Things can get rough around here."

"I'm well aware. You take care now."

With that, he turned and resumed walking off to the pub, eventually making it to the entrance. The prostitute watching the outsider go, with a frown.

As soon as the Wastelander stepped in, he felt like he was sent back home, sadly. A scratched-up hardwood floor, dim lights hanging from a dingy ceiling, rows of booths occupied with fellow Wastelanders in tacky clothing, and barstools with peeling leather. Funny that the saloon was the most hospitable looking place, relatively speaking. He was starting to get homesick again as the smell of mold and stale wood got through his mask. As a bonus, large speakers on the ceiling played music but with the tune of country instruments and a nasally, middle-aged voice singing about the lack of alcohol in a bar.

'Music I can stand? 'Bout damn time…' he felt, almost experiencing bliss as he walked over to the bar.

Taking the seat closest to the door and on the corner of the counter, he pushed the coat of his duster out of the way as the stool squeaked under his weight. A moment later, the bartender – balding man in a dirty dress shirt – went over to him, a bored expression on his withered features.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked, dry of emotion.

"Anything that can knock me off my ass, please," Brin answered, taking off his helmet and putting it on the counter.

"Sure."

While the bartender went away to retrieve the patron's drink, Nathan reached to his waist and pulled out his Vault 13 Canteen, taking a swig from it as he listened to the music. So far, this Wastelander's impression of the city in the Outback was what he'd expect; wanting to dull his senses. Remembering long travels of America's remains, visiting shantytown settlements that were an eyesore. Almost questioning how people got to this point, where some sheets of rickety metal and duct-tape could constitute a home. Except this place was somehow worse off than most of New California. As if the rest of the country and the world had forgotten about this desert – or wanted nothing to do with it at all. Nathan certainly couldn't blame them. The only thing missing was a person with rotting skin.

The bartender came back with a cloudy glass and a bottle of what he presumed to be moonshine. Pouring a hearty volume into the glass before sliding it over to him. Nathan reached into his pockets and produced a few coins, dropping them in the bartender's hand.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Nathan said, before throwing his head back and gulping down the mystery liquor, feeling it go down like kerosene. "Wondering if you could answer a few questions? I ain't from around here."

"Figured as much," the bartender responded, slowly perking up one eyebrow. "What's a yank doing in the Outback?"

"Answer some of my questions and you might find out."

"Hmph, alright, but don't take all day. I got customers to serve."

As the outsider was about to start, he heard a ruckus from behind and looked over his shoulder to booth seats on the other side of the room. A few questionably clothed Junkers were enjoying themselves a bit too loudly with a round of beers. They had a few lady-friends with them, but Nathan noticed that most of the other patrons kept their distance from them and were largely quiet. He also noticed that some of them seemed armed with an assortment of makeshift weapons. Only ones in this pub carrying something, besides him.

"Well, for starters, who runs things in this town?" the visitor asked, turning back on his stool.

"That would be the  _Queen_ ," the bartender answered, sounding not enthused about who he mentioned. "She runs things around here, alright, sending thugs to collect the taxes people 'owe' to her. Among other things."

"Ah, one of  _those_. At least my visit here won't be entirely boring."

The bartender perked one eyebrow as his patron took another gulp of his drink, emptying the glass, again. Silently impressed the outsider still seemed conscious after that.

"Anything I should be mindful of lest I want to incur her wrath?"

"Same as anywhere else, really," the bartender responded, pouring more into his glass. "Don't cause trouble, and don't fuck with the Queen. Troublemakers usually get booted to the bush and barred from re-entry. Heard of worse, though."

"Typical. Might be a problem, as I am looking for somebody from around here – a Junker. Might be one of those troublemakers."

"Who?"

"A 'Jamison Fawkes'. Heard of him?"

"Hmm… Sorry, mate. Name's not ringing any bells."

The wandered breathed a deflated sigh, thinking he would have to go around asking the whole city to find this one contact. Wouldn't be hard, having done similar things before in many towns, just time-consuming. Before Nathan could ask anymore leads, one of the noisy Junkers from the booth stumbled up to the bar, getting uncomfortably close to the Californian. Not really wearing a shirt, just some straps that held up his dirty trousers. Nathan smelling him before he saw him, wanting to put on his helmet.

"'Ey, Dusty," he greeted the bartender, taking a swig from a bottle and barely being intelligible. "Dis bruisahs not gevin ya' any trouble, ain't he?"

"He's not, just asking questions," the barkeep replied. "Maybe you could help him out?"

"Oi reckon oi can…" the Junker said, turning and leaning against the counter to face Nathan. "How ken oi help?"

The more coherent man pulled out his flask to pour a little of the contents into his glass, trying to give it a bit more punch if he was going to speak to this lightweight. Mask some of his stench, too.

"I'm just looking for someone," Nathan explained, drinking up and feeling the extra bite. "Do you know a 'Jamison Fawkes'?"

"A who?" the Junker asked, swaying in his stool. "Nah, nauh clue who the fak thaut is. Sounds loike a posh cunt, though."

"Right."

"Reckon 'e got a nicknaem?"

"Pardon?"

"S'he got a nickname? Nobody uses their own fackin' name out 'ere, anywahy."

Nathan stared at him for a couple of moments before recalling what he studied on the holopads as he prepped for this mission. Feeling there was a sliver of information he was missing, which wouldn't be a first. He brought a hand to his Pip-Boy and searched through the notes from his research. A few rolls of the wheel showed some notes he made about the contact he still needed to find.

"It appears he does," the tall Waster said.

"What?" the Junker asked.

"'Junkrat'. Sound familiar, now?"

The Junker choked on his beer and looked up at the Waster as if he had spat in his drink. Furrowing his brow at that reaction, Nathan had noticed that the entire bar had also fallen silent and everyone sitting around them staring at him. Even the bartender looks at him with a staggered appearance. Only the music playing through the silence and clearly not lightening the mood.

"I guess it does," he said, calmly looking around.

"What you want with him, eh?" the Junker next to him asked, suddenly more coherent and threatening now. "What's an outsider got to do with that sleazy bastard?!"

"Business, if you can call it that. I'm just asking where you guys might've last seen him."

"You're working with him, aren't you?! With that backstabbin' rat?"

"I didn't say that-"

"Shut it! Queen doesn't like him that much, and neither do we!"

The Junker then pulled out a knife from his belt and pointed the tip at Nathan. Narrowing his eyes at the blade and its owner. Peering to the side to see some of his friends getting riled up.

However, in the farthest corner of the bar and unbeknownst to the outsider, a portly old man with an orange cap covered in motor oil watched from afar. Taking a sip from his mug with a cigar not too far.

"You're an outsider, so I could've gone easy on you. More than willing to help a total stranger, but now?" the knife-wielding Junker began to grin like a mad idiot. "I think we got to put you in your place. Remind where you are!"

"I only asked a fuckin' question," Brin responded, annoyed but not surprised the conversation devolved very quickly with this dolt.

"No matter! Still deciding whether I should take you to the Queen or teach you a lesson right here. Show you how we really do things in the Outback, mate!"

"Oi!" the bartender then interjected, catching their attention before pointing to something above him. "Do I have to keep reminding you illiterate-cunts!"

He was pointing to a sign nailed to the wall that said "No Stabbin', Shootin', Glassin', Shittin', Rootin', or Tossin' on the Premises Under no Circumstances!", the last verb in the warning looking like a more recent addition. Nathan was curious to what that meant.

"Queen'll cover the costs, Dusty!" the Junker reassured, before looking back at Nathan with a toothy grin. "Anything else you want to say,  _yank_?"

He didn't hear the outsider say anything as something suddenly shot up at him and tugged at his arm, fast enough for him to miss it. He blinked, before peering down and looking in surprise as the outsider had his left hand wrapped around his blade and held it in his closed palm. The Junker then looked on in horror as he tried to pull the knife back and his hand barely budged, not even able to cut up his hand. Everyone else holding their breath for what they witnessed.

The outsider could've pulled out his gun or his knife, but he didn't feel like it was worth the effort.

"Yeah…" the bearded man in black armor said, with a very irritated gaze in his eyes. "Stop calling me a fucking  _yank_!"

He punctuated his response by knocking away the Junker's hand from his knife while simultaneously grabbing his wrist in a stranglehold. The Junker was effortlessly lifted into the air from his stool and dragged around on the floor until the larger man firmly planted the hand he held firmly against the counter. Spinning the knife around and with one strong drop of his arm, he impaled it into the back of the Junker's hand and quaked the entire counter, making the man scream and flail as he tried to wrestle his hand from the bar top to no avail.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" the bartender yelled.

Nathan heard the shuffling of feet and chairs, spinning around to see two of his friends charging at him. The first thug got up close, trying to throw a punch with big fists, but the Waster ducked and pounded him square in his left cheek, knocking his lights out and collapsing to the floor like that. The second one, armed with a pipe, swung it at him in one hand but was stopped as his wrist got caught before having his legs swept under him. Then, with another hand grabbing him from the back of the head, had his face slammed into the edge of the counter, sending blood and teeth flying. Dazed and guzzling blood and snot, he looked up at the tall, bearded outsider before a metal helmet slammed into the side of his head sent him to his comrade on the floor.

"Sorry, mate," Nathan huffed towards Dusty as he reached into his pocket, and slapped several coins onto the counter. Then, he turned towards the Junker he nailed into the bar to get him out without causing more unnecessary damage. "I'm not done with you."

Without warning, a chair crashed against his back and made him wince before he looked over his shoulder and glared daggers at a scrawny Junker in a gas mask, who began trembling under the much larger man's gaze as he held the legs of a broken wooden chair.

"Really?" Nathan could only question as he tugged hard on the stuck Junker's arm and ripped his hand free from his knife, making him scream more as his hand's flesh got split down the middle. Patrons around the pub becoming nauseous.

The masked Junker dropped the legs and ran away to the entrance, panting heavily under his mask. Nathan put his helmet on and dragged the cut-up Junker by the hair to the exit.

Now outside the establishment, the Courier held up and slammed the Junker against a wall, bringing him face-to-face with the red eyes of his mask. The bulky case of the Pip-Boy pressing against his throat. Almost about to make him piss himself.

"So, do you know where I can find Junkrat?" the Courier asked, the filter of his helmet giving his voice an intimidating tenor.

"I-I-I-I don't know!" the Junker answered, gurgling from the pressure on his throat. "Please, don't kill me!"

"Nothing you can tell me?"

"I swear to me parents' grave, I don't know! Junkrat got kicked out of Junkertown some time ago for pissing off the Queen, but that's all I know. No one's seen them for ages! We don't know where they are!"

"You tellin' the truth, or should I send you to your folks?"

"Jesus Christ, I swear, you fuckin' psycho!"

The Waster tilted his head, holding the Junker in his hand and boring a hole into him with the persistent gaze of his mask. Hovering centimeters from his face. After a few more whimpers from the bloodied man, Nathan let him go and fall to the floor on his ass.

"Go," Brin commanded, throwing his thumb to the side. "And if you're Queen hears about this… My earlier point still stands."

The shaken man ran, Nathan's gaze following him as he hurried down the street without once looking back. However, he squinted as the Junker was running oddly, and the back of his trousers was a shade darker. He looked down to see his boots in a puddle that wasn't there a minute earlier.

He shook his head before turning and walking off into the street, figuring out where to go next. Probably wouldn't be able to stay long, now, for asking the wrong questions.

"Hey!" he heard a voice from behind, belonging to a local but sounding older. "Hold up!"

The New Californian turned around to see a fat, old man with a white beard running up to him, stopping a few feet away to catch his breath. He had an orange trucker hat covered in oil, orange gloves stained in a similar fashion, and a belt of tools around the waist of his trousers that couldn't fit the entirety of his gut. He wore a vest, but was shirtless underneath it, kind of defeating the purpose.

"Can I help you?" Nathan asked the older Junker.

"No, you already put up a good show taking care of those bastards back there," the man laughed, standing to look up at the mask. "Prove 'em right for thinking they're untouchable. No, I'm here to talk to you about Junkrat."

Looks like the Waster's trip would be short.

"You know him?"

"Nope, but I do know someone who works with him. A scary-looking, masked bloke like you, except bigger. They haven't been here for ages because, like that guy who shat himself said, they ticked off the Queen big time and got exiled. So, I don't know where they are right now, but I do know a good place to start. And you look like someone who's good at finding things."

"Clearly. Where's this place?"

"It's a homestead, just a couple of clicks from here on the outskirts of town. You won't miss it. You got a map on that thing on your wrist?"

Nathan brought up his Pip-Boy, clicking it to the World Map on his screen and showed it to the old man, who looked at it in subtle intrigue but focused back on task.

"Should be right there," he said, tapping a corner on the screen.

"Thanks," Nathan said, marking the location before looking down at him. "You were surprisingly forthcoming with that."

"Ah, it's not even that much of a secret around here, mate. You would've found out, one way or the other."

"Still, how do you know I'm ain't some bounty hunter sent to tag your friends?"

"Only one of them's my friend, and I don't know what it is about you… But I feel like those two'll be in good company with you around. God knows they need it. Can hold your fists better than most locals around here. Politer, too. Wish we had more outsiders like  _you_  come to our shit paddock to spruce things up, then maybe I'd regain my faith in the outside world."

"Right."

"Hmph… Well, take care, mate. Try not to get arse-tetanus on your way out."

The grease-monkey left, waddling away down the street. Nathan stared at him for several moments before turning away and making his way down the street, too. Trying to find the exit so he can get his guns back and find this "homestead" in the Outback. If only that old man knew he had much more in common with the outsider than he thinks.

* * *

An hour had passed since Brin left the "safety" of Junkertown's walls, venturing back into the Outback. His radio on with the sun still up, and taking occasional sips from his canteen. Walking along the remains of an old road that's seen better days. Even on the outskirts of the city, there was sparse life to be seen for kilometers around him. Passing by the occasional rundown shack or rusted car hull, adding to the obvious desolation. From his own experience, it took the hardiest, and craziest, of people to purposefully sequester themselves this far from any sort of civilization; from humble farming village, lavish cities, to whatever Junkertown was. More so when it becomes irradiated to hell.

'Even here, people find a reason to squabble,' the New Californian mused to himself as he looked around, almost feeling like he was walking along Interstate-15. He read up about the war that took place in this dusty berm, how a lot of people wanted to fight to keep their homes. Hateful of the machines who "invaded". Morbidly ironic that they would destroy it in the process, but who was he to pass on judgment? The Long-15 laid with good intentions of the dead and dying.

Getting distracted by more of the scenery, he looked ahead to the road and saw something coming over the horizon, noticing how the sun glinted off it. Looking more carefully to see it was moving towards him. It kicked up a visible cloud of dust and sand in its trail. Hearing the engine well-before it got close to him. However, it didn't just speed by on the road and pay him no mind, but the car visibly slowed to a crawl as it got two-hundred meters within his proximity. The Waster kept walking but steadied his eyes on the car instead of the horizon.

It didn't take long for the car to get close, but it less resembled a car and more like the skeletonized corpse of one. Its cage was open to the sky, and it had spikes and metal-sheets plastered over its body. Garish paint jobs and decals over the parts covered in metal, with crudely drawn subjects. The occupants all had something covering their faces, presumably to deal with the wind. They all still looked filthy, and eyeballed the man in black armor as he walked passed their car. The Waster just stared at them in return, maintaining his brisk pace. Only his radio and their engine making noise. Then, after passing by their rear bumper, he turned his head back to the horizon. Hearing the rev of their engine go off behind him a couple of moments later, the noise becoming more distant until it was gone.

Glancing down at his Pip-Boy, it showed the homestead shouldn't be too far by now. He looked up to scan the horizons, squinting if needed. Swiveling his head until his eyes stopped on something in the distance, left of the road, and in the middle of a small canyon formed by some of the rocks. Nathan took another glance at his map before turning on his heel and walking towards the small blip.

Even next to a road, it took Nathan almost a quarter-hour to reach it on foot, clearly obvious that whoever owned this homestead didn't expect visitors often. Probably didn't want any either.

As he got within a hundred meters of it, he found the homestead looking a couple of centuries too old, even out here. Made of ancient wood, rusting sheet metal, and windows and walls struck with dust. In front of the home was a tall post with a crowned clock on top and an arrow speckled with lightbulbs pointing to junk at its base. On the right side of the building were more scrap and junk, and the other side with a silo that was equally rundown, most likely barren of anything.

Getting close to the front porch, Nathan saw something was tied to one of the supports beams by a rope. It was a four-legged hooved creature, with white wiry fur and two horns from the top of its skull. It was bigger than a dog but smaller than a Brahmin calf. The animal nibbled on a patch of grass and barely reacted to Nathan as he walked up to it. Looking down at it and being reminded of Bighorners. The Tribal noted its plump belly and no visible ribs. It was also cleaner than most people out here. Someone was taking care of their livestock, and not doing too bad of a job.

He gave the animal a little pat on the head, before stepping foot onto the porch and going up to the front door. Except there wasn't a door, however, the hinges swinging loose. Nathan just knocked on the side of the wood.

"Hello?" he called out, his filtered voice echoing through the rundown estate.

He tapped on the wood again, garnering no response before stepping inside. The interior didn't look any better than outside, the walls covered in dust or rust and trash was strewn about the floor. He only found one large room inside the homestead that made it more like a warehouse with all the space. Workbenches and tools set up against the walls, furnished barn hangars above him, and a platform in the middle of the floor that seemed to be missing something. Someone clearly lived in here, but there wasn't any sign of them other than some pieces of stained and ripped furniture. Finding no one in the large, open space, the Waster sighed and walked back to the door to gain his bearings and plan the next course of action.

It had gotten considerably darker with the sun setting behind the mountains, but still bright enough for Nathan to stop in his tracks and look up to see five men fifty meters from the porch.

" _Play the guitar-_ "

Brin clicked his Pip-Boy quiet, as he stared at the five armed-Junkers. Recognizing them from the car that passed by earlier. Seeing it parked not too far behind them.

"Excuse me?" the Junker in the middle asked with narrowed eyes, holding some makeshift rifle over his shoulder. "You the yank?"

Nathan didn't say anything as his eyes shuffled between all five of them.

"We've heard you cause some trouble back in Junkertown. Now, the Queen doesn't like troublemakers, so we reckon-"

The leader couldn't finish his sentence as four rapid-fire rifle shots went off and blood from his friends spurted out onto the sand and his face, dropping his own weapon in shock as he watched them all simultaneously fall to the ground. All the bravado was gone in an instant as he darted his eyes up at the tall black armor walking up to him, holding his green carbine in the air with the barrel freshly smoking before holstering it. The Junker held up his hands and trembled in his spot as the outsider got closer. Planting a firm grip on the man's right shoulder and bringing up the muzzle of his sidearm against his left temple. His eyes peering to both sides as he was at his mercy, or lack thereof.

"If you want to shoot… Shoot," the Courier growled, sounding annoyed. "Don't talk. This isn't a fucking movie."

The man stared at him, wide-eyed and petrified. Sweat gleaming on his dirty forehead.

"So, your Queen sent you, huh?" the Courier questioned, digging the cold metal of the SIG into his head. "Then maybe you wouldn't mind telling me-"

The Waster couldn't finish his sentence as the sound of rattling chain went off behind his hostage and felt him jolt in his grip, looking down to see a very large hook wrapped around the Junker's midsection.

The Junker screamed as the hook jerked back and dragged him twenty meters through the air. His short journey ending as his head was caught in a large hand that then snapped his neck with the flick of a thumb. The Courier stands there as he watches the corpse fall and immediately locks eyes with a very large and very fat man with a stitched-up gas mask. He was shirtless, with a vest draped over his shoulders and an armored, spiked pauldron over the right shoulder with tubing leading down an armored gauntlet over his right wrist. A glove over his hand with spikes over the knuckles and rings over meaty fingers. His left hand held the large hook, its chain connected to a wench on his waist of a pair of ill-fitting blue-camo pants with a belt-buckle license plate reading "ROADR8GE". His most prominent feature was his stomach, large and bulbous, but with a tattoo of an engine with flames and the picture of a farm animal with his belly button being its nose. "Wild Hog Power" inscribed in ribbons around the engine.

Brin just stared at the larger, more rotund man, his grip getting firm around his sidearm.

"Nooooowww, what do we have here?" a lanky, also shirtless man as tall as the Waster exclaimed as he moseyed in front of the fat man and looked at the corpses and Nathan. "Guests! Roadie, we're not expecting guests, are we?"

The man with the mask just silently regarded him.

"Well, I know these drongos are the Queen's, but who's  _him_?"

The fat one stood silent, just staring at him. Yet, somehow, the lanky one's eyes widened and looked back at Nathan, then back at his colleague, then back at Nathan, and kept swishing his head back and forth between the two.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, you're not saying…? That's  _him,_ is it? Then that means… They received my letters? After all this time?!"

The lanky one turned around to reveal a soot-stained face with blond hair that was on fire at the tips. He had a vest of what appeared to be grenades over his wiry shoulders, and a large spiked tire slung over his back. His right arm was entirely mechanical from his elbow to his hand and had a peg for the adjacent leg. He wore a torn and patched up pair of green-camo shorts, an eccentric smiley face grafted to the right leg. None of that bothered Brin as much as the look on the Junker's face, and how he had a grin wide enough to split a normal person's face. Didn't even look dubious, just unreasonably happy.

"Oh, joy!"

The lanky Junker maintained his grin for several long moments before jumping and thumping his feet into the air as if he won the lottery. Pumping his fists up and down. His friend and Nathan just staring at him twirl around. Finally, he stopped and stood straight up to face their visitor, clearing his throat.

"Salutations and felicitations, stranger!" he exclaimed towards Nathan, who didn't ease his grip on his gun. "I am Jamison 'Junkrat' Fawkes, explosive extraordinaire and criminal mastermind! And this is my assistant, 'Roadhog'! Don't be rude, Roadie, say 'hi'!"

"…"

"Splendid. And we are at your service, mate!"

Junkrat then bowed very deeply, one arm around his waist and the other high into the air, but the weight of his equipment made him tip over and fall flat on his face. Roadhog only looked at him as he speedily recovered and got up, almost  _too_  fast and as if he was hopped up on Jet, or some other narcotic fumes. He patted some dirt off himself before looking up and smiling madly at their "guest", who only stared at them uncertainly for several moments, his helmet hiding his grimace. A low groan emanated from his helmet. Now knowing who he was working with – Wastrels.

"Fuck me…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog's homestead is, for some reason, displayed in two very different locations in the game and the comic, Wasted Lands. So, for lore's sake, I decided to base the location in my story on the comic version. Just an FYI.
> 
> Also, my research on Australia for this chapter was… Interesting, to say the least.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	42. A Shoddy Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! Sorry, about the delay. Some things got in the way last week…
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this late-Christmas present!

The Outback, Australia

2076

The sorrowful realization crept up his spine and took almost every ounce of willpower for the Courier to not just walk off into the sunset. Not wanting to look back as he leaves the dusty berm of the homestead behind, even if he had nowhere else to go. Almost not caring that he had a mission to complete, something to fetch. Still, despite all the consequences the alternatives would entail and the limited options he could even fall back on, one part of his mind thought anything would be better than working with _these two_.

Nevertheless, he stood there silently regarding the two and trying to rationalize not simply fucking off. Probably standing there a bit too silently for a bit too long as he didn’t hear the mouthy one speak amongst the desert wind. All of it background noise until he snapped out of his stupor and could comprehend what Fawkes was saying.

“…he catatonic, mate, or is he just…?” the lanky Junker asked his partner, unsure if their visitor was conscious under that helmet.

“ _Ahem_ ,” the Waster cleared his throat.

“Oh, thought we lost you, mate,” Junkrat exclaimed, maintain a huge grin on his face. “We got a huge day ahead, and I’m sure you have much to discuss with us, but let’s get acquainted inside, first. ‘Our home is your home’, as they say!”

Ecstatically, Junkrat sauntered towards the rundown homestead, walked passed their guest, and was halfway to the porch until he noticed he was the only one who moved. He turned around to see the visitor had not even moved from his spot and still looked towards the horizon, and that Roadhog had not even moved from his spot, either. Silently regarding the man in black armor as he firmly held on to his large hook. The helmeted man firmly holding his sidearm. Junkrat narrowed his eyes at them both, wondering what the holdup was.

“Roadie, quit mucking about!” he yelled, disrupting the silence. “We’ve got work to do!”

After his interjection, the two masked men regarded each other for several moments longer until the larger one just snorted and began trudging his way to the homestead, thumping against the ground with every step. As he passed the Waster, they kept staring at each other, one craning his head up and the other looking down. Roadhog lumbered by, their guest looked over his shoulder and watch them get inside their home. Then, the Courier turned his head back to the horizon, watching the surrounding sky become dark. The corpses around him already getting flies. However, he heard faint groaning to his left and sees one of the Junkers he shot still alive. Slowly dragging himself across the sand with a trail of his blood staining it. He didn’t get any farther as a gunshot went off and a .45 ACP slug pierced his brain, spilling more blood onto the orange sand. He holstered his sidearm and turned to walk to the front door.

Back inside the homestead, warier of the home now, the guest suddenly finds a couch and a coffee table that wasn’t there the first time he went inside. Wondering where the furniture even came from, he felt something tap him on the shoulder and turned to see the stout bottle of a frosty beer being handed to him. He took it, not even regarding the Junker who gave it to him as he then went to take a seat on the couch. Unbothered by how dirty or uncomfortable it was as he sunk into it. Removing his helmet and twisting the bottle cap off, he then threw his head back and already guzzled down half of the beverage. Junkrat letting out a long whistle as he walked in front and watched him finish off the rest of the beer in just a few seconds.

“Hope you ain’t too thirsty, we’ve not a lot to go around,” Junkrat chuckled.

The Courier lets go of his drink with a groan, not enough alcohol in that bottle to completely sate him. Wiping his sleeve against his mouth and planting the bottle firmly on the table top. He shut his eyes for a couple of seconds, letting thoughts run through his mind. Then, mustering up enough willpower again to look up at the tall Junker. Somewhat trying to hide his contempt.

“So, what can we do for you?” Junkrat asked, looking down at his guest with that same grin.

“Why am I here?” the Waster merely questioned.

“Ah, getting straight to business, I can respect that! Well, mate, the reason you’re here is that we’ve got a job that needs doing and what better candidate to help us put it all together than someone from the _New Overwatch_? Erh, you are with them, right?”

Fawkes looked at him with an apprehensive look, but the Waster just rolled his eyes and nodded.

“That’s great because what you lot do best is bringing the bad guys, the villains, to justice! And we have a villain of our own lording over the rest of us in the Outback – the _Queen_!”

Junkrat started shuddering in disgust as soon as he uttered that. The guest just staring at him.

“Even saying her name makes me want to detonate something,” he stated, before addressing their guest. “And you’re going to help with that. Help bring payba- oh uh, I mean justice, yes that, to the Queen and her rancid lot! Do Junkertown and the entirety of the Outback a public service out of the philanthropy of our hearts! The Saviors of the Outback; Junkrat! Roadhog! And… Uh, what’s your name, mate? Afraid I didn’t catch it.”

“ _Courier_ ,” Nathan Brin answered, looking at the Junker straight in the eye.

“Eh, what? ‘Courier’? That’s an odd moniker to have. You look to be more than just some flippin’ mailman. But I digress. Junkrat, Roadhog, and the Courier – Saviors of the Wastes! Huh, it does _kind_ of have a nice ring to it…”

“ _Ahem!_ ”

“What?” Junkrat let out, confused until his face lit up with realization, again. “Oh, right. The plan! Well, it’s simple!”

Nathan immediately doubted that.

Jamison dashed away from the table and dashed back into view with a chalkboard, placing it on the coffee table and holding it up as he scribbled away on the board with his mechanical hand. Nathan tried to look over and see what was being drawn, but the Junker’s wiry body kept twitching and obscuring his view. He was writing fervidly, a cloud of chalk dust forming around the board. Then, after around half-a-minute of scribbling, Junkrat stepped back and displayed what was on the chalkboard: an elaborate, chicken-scratch diagram of a stick figure man with a metal helmet escorting a large floating-cart – filled with bags of money, piles of gold, and all other sorts of riches – along a path. What stood out most to him was that the cart had what appeared to be bundles of dynamite strapped to its sides. A lot of dynamite.

“You see, chum, you’re going to help deliver a trolley full of goods to the Queen,” Fawkes began to explain, tapping a stick against the board and pointing to the drawings. “You’ll get it through Junkertown, all sneaky-like, and bring it to the Queen’s throne room. And when you present it to her majesty!”

He began tapping furiously against the last drawing on the board, showing a large cartoon mushroom cloud with a stick figure hauling ass away from it, and another stick figure with spiky hair, a braided pony-tail, and x’s for eyes being blown up.

“ _Kablooey_!!!” the explosive Junker exclaimed before cackling like a mad hatter. “It’ll be a piece of piss! Almost no trouble for you getting it in. Heh, your name’ll be fitting, then.”

The job did sound simple, and it could’ve been as easy as he described, but Nathan knew there were going to be complications given some _choices_ he had made prior.

“Uh-huh. One problem, though,” the Waster said, holding up a finger. “I’ve been there, before, and I don’t think your Queen likes me very much, now.”

Jamison dropped his dirty but glowing smile faster than a thermonuclear airburst-warhead, and Nathan thought he saw the fiery tips of his hair dim a bit. Junkrat brought his mechanical hand up to his chin, rubbing it in thought as he peered up at the ceiling, at the chalkboard, at the guest, and hummed lowly. His metal fingers rubbing off some soot from his chin. The chalkboard that balanced precariously on the coffee table then fell and slid to the floor, kicking up a plume of dust and chalk.

“That is a problem,” the verbose Junker merely stated, before frowning. “What did you do?”

“Enough to warrant me as a ‘troublemaker’,” Brin explained casually.

“Like?”

“Knocked a few idiots at a bar, which is the reason for the guys currently fertilizing your front lawn.”

“Hmm, and you’re the only American around here, so you’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

The Californian just frowned.

“I mean, no sense trying to put on a disguise if you can’t sound the part, right?”

The wiry Junker went deep into thought again, now aware that his plan wasn’t as air-tight as he hoped it would be. A bit disappointed that it couldn’t come together nicely even with outside help. However, he was quick to think of a possible solution.

“If you ain’t in good standing with the Queen,” Junkrat iterated, tapping his chin. “Then how ‘bout we get you in good standing with her?”

Nathan perked a brow, curious about how they were going to achieve that. Gaining a sour reputation was easier than going to hell and back to get rid of one.

“As far as she knows, you only punched a few thugs at the pub, nothing more,” Jamison said, shrugging. “And dead men can’t really report back to anyone except St. Peter, so no need to worry about that lot out front. No, what you need to do now is something you’re probably all too used to.”

“What?” Nathan asked, a bit apprehensively.

“Be a hero, mate.”

‘Oh, of course,’ the Courier thought silently to himself, but frowning even more. ‘Because that’s worked out so well before! People love a hero, especially in places like out here. Sure as hell won’t be any repercussion from trying to act like a hero out here, no sir-ee! They’ll flock to me, want my autograph, and suck my dick the second I act remotely _heroic_. Nothing better!’

“What…?” Nathan repeated in disbelief. “That’s your plan?”

“Yep, and I know the duo best qualified to help you pull off such a show,” Junkrat responded, jumping back next to Roadhog, and posing as if there was a spotlight showering the two. Roadhog, who had a shovel and pickaxe over his shoulder, just looked at him before scoffing and walking through the front door.

“You’re kidding?” the Waster could only question again.

“Why would I be kidding about something that’ll be fun? Let draw me draw it out for ya’. Again.”

Junkrat bent down and propped the chalkboard up on the table again but a corner of the board snapped off, almost knocking down Nathan’s bottle. Without further ado, the ashy Aussie began to scribble onto the chalkboard once more with his mechanical hand. Much quicker than last time, he finished and jumped out of the way to show a set of three separate images with a number designating each of them in order.

“Step one,” Junkrat began, using his peg leg as a pointer to the first image, which showed stick figure versions of themselves in front of a caravan of cars on a road. “Roadie and I will hold up one of the Queen’s supply caravans from the Omnium, maybe do a little terrorizing to really sell it. And when they are thoroughly defecating themselves, that’s when you come in.”

He extended his peg leg to the second image in the middle, showing the same caravan and stick figure Junkers, but the duo being chased off by a helmeted man firing a gun into the air.

“Step two, you save the poor subjects of the Queen and run us off. Be sure to make yourself as heroic as possible, like you’re going to be put on an inspirational poster, or appear in a blockbuster screenplay! Or…”

“Some fucking dumb dime-novel they’d sell back home,” the Courier said, scornfully, remembering how some of his actions _were_ written into poorly-written, woefully inaccurate books back in California.

“Sure, that works,” the Junker accepted, the reference obviously lost to him. “Just make it look convincing. And don’t worry about holding back, Roadhog and I have plenty of practice running away under fire.”

Nathan scrunched up his face at what he said for the moment but quickly decided that he didn’t care that much to question him further. The sooner he finished helping them, the better. Even if he was just shaving seconds.

“Finally, step three,” the explosive mastermind went on, now pointing to the last and final image in the set – the helmeted man in front of the caravan with other sticks figures cheering for him and little cartoon hearts and exclamation points floating around in the air. “Adoration. People always love this!”

“ _Hmph_.”

“They’d be wanting to know who their savior was, who saved them from the ‘dreaded Junkrat and Roadhog’, heh! And after you’re done shaking hands or signing mammaries, you put in the good word with the Queen and next time you find yourself at Junkertown’s gates with the treasure-trolley, she’d let you right in!”

“… That easy…?” Brin questioned, scowling.

“Most people around here ain’t too bright, and the Queen’s memory can slip about some no-name outsider if he brings a trolley full of bling with him. She’d be more than willing to forgive you for just glassing a few blokes. Can’t say the same for Roadhog and me.”

Nathan glanced at him for a moment, reclining further into the cushion of the worn couch. He looked and thought over the plan just described to him by Jamison, and while it made sense relatively speaking, he felt it relied more on the grace of their luck than the soundness of its mechanisms. To put it more bluntly, not a lot of people would put much faith in it. Who in their right mind would?

“Fine, I’ll do it,” the Waster accepted, not really caring too much about the implications but still trying to get a semblance of things for once. “But after this little show you’re going to put on, and after we bring your little ‘parting gift’ to the Queen and vaporize her, will you do a favor for me in return?”

“Sure,” the Junker answered. “If a proper business transaction is what you’re after, a proper business transaction you’ll receive. Least I can do for a generous and obliging man such as yourself! Eh, what do you want, though…?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, how soon can we get this first phase of your plan done?”

“Immediately, if you’re up for it.”

“Good.”

“Anything else, cobber?”

Almost immediately, Nathan looked to down to the table at his empty bottle of beer.

* * *

Nathan was skulling his third beer as he rode in a wagon being pulled by the Junker’s mode of transportation – a large, yellow, jury-rigged motorcycle with steer-horns on the headlight and a yellow sidecar personalized with spikes on its wheel and the hubcap, with a freakish smiley face on the front of it. It was now completely night out in the Outback, the only sources of light being the moon, the motorcycle’s headlight, and the sea of stars above them. It was a bumpy and loud ride, largely due to the fact this motorcycle used actual wheels and had an engine louder than a machine gun. Nathan could feel the heat from the exhaust hit him in the back, so as soon as he finished his bottle of beer he tossed it aside and put his helmet back on. Feeling nearly not enough alcohol in his system. And as if to make matters worse for him, he had to share the cramped wagon with the farm animal.

“Why are we bringing the livestock?” the Waster had to yell over the thundering bike.

“What?” the other passenger asked, looking up from his sidecar and over his shoulder. “You mean the goat?”

“Yes, the ‘goat’. Why are we bringing it with us?”

“Roadie doesn’t want to leave the goat all by himself in the dark, ‘cause of the dingoes.”

“And the goats fine with it?”

“Just look at him, mate. He could care less.”

Nathan turned his head to the left to see the “goat” just sitting on his side next to him. Chewing on something in his mouth and with eyes that looked half-asleep. It did seem unfazed by the loud noises and the constant rocking, so he had to give the animal credit for not shitting all over the wagon. Then, something on his neck glinted in the moonlight and Nathan reached down to grab a metal tag on its collar.

“Jerry,” it read. Brin thought it was an odd name choice for the animal, but he was more of a Brahmin person.

He looked back to the expanse of the Outback but in the dark. Barely able to see fifty meters out without his lowlight vision. He’d usually be sleeping or trying to find a place to sleep on nights like these, but this was going to be one of those where he’d have to work overtime. Where near-freezing temperatures overtook the scorching days. Those usually didn’t bother him, but he was much less nauseous using his own legs than riding in a rickety wagon precariously linked to a motorcycle. At least the bike seemed to have good horsepower with all the weight it was carrying.

Roadhog grunted, bowing his head to Junkrat who then looked over his shoulder to relay the message to their third guest.

“Four more clicks out!” Junkrat exclaimed. “And then the show will begin.”

“Great…” the Courier muttered under his breath.

Staring into the distance, again, he watches as stretches of dirt road and shrubs speed by them in seconds. Seeing how wide and open the Outback was, how this place would be a dream for any type of long-range shooting. Recreational or otherwise.

Lifting his hand up, he grabbed the broad stock of the Brush Gun and brought it to the front.

‘Hello, old friend,’ Nathan greeted the rifle, having not held it for a long time. ‘Sorry I’ve neglected you. I’ll find you some game to tag soon.’

He swung the lever forward and watched the bolt pop out the rear, then setting it back into place and watching the bolt go back in with the hammer now cocked back. With a press of the trigger and his thumb on the hammer, he set it at half-cock before he reached to his bandolier and started inserting .45-70’s into the receiver. As he was in the middle of filling the tube magazine, something flew and hit him in the back of the helmet, making him stop and nearly drop a round. Unhurt but annoyed, he looked back and dodged another flying projectile to see Junkrat sifting through his sidecar, throwing random crap out with no consideration for anything else. Annoyed, Nathan just turned back and resumed loading his rifle until the mag was full, then resting the weapon on its stock and leaning on it as he watches more shrubs zoom by. An occasional piece of refuse entering his view and maybe bouncing off his head. A few more moments pass, then Nathan feels something tugging on his duster and spots the goat nibbling on it. He grabs the piece of cloth the goat was trying to eat, but Jerry is tenacious and tugs even harder. The back passengers have a little tug of war, the human trying not to rock the wagon too much. The goat proving to be stronger than he assumed. However, with one good tug from his arm, Nathan wrestled his duster free from Jerry but saw the damages he had left on it. The Courier’s duster was getting really worn by this point and would have to do something about that if he wanted to maintain “his” uniform.

His reminiscence was disturbed as something flew past his vision and got caught the barrel of his Brush Gun. It was a piece of a paper, flapping in the wind. Nathan grabbed it and was almost about to throw it out but stopped as he saw a dollar sign printed on it with a very large number next to it. Doing a double-take, he shook the paper to make it steady and was immediately greeted by the stenciled mug of Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes in the middle of it and the words “ _SE BUSCA_ ” above. Another word, “ _RECOMPENSA_ ”, was at the bottom with a very large sum of money printed below it. There were some words scribbled in the margins, which was a self-addressed note to remind Junkrat to find a frame for this poster.

Even though he could speak the language, he didn’t need to read much to learn that his contact’s head was worth _a lot_ of money. He didn’t have much need for this world’s dollars, but he could probably find some use for it. It probably might be more if he also bagged his accomplice, and hell, the goat might be worth something, too.

The Courier looked over his shoulder to see Junkrat still occupied with flinging random shit from his sidecar and Roadhog keeping his eyes on the road. Taking one final glance at the bounty poster, he let the paper go and watched it flutter off into the distance before disappearing. Then, he grabbed one more round from his bandolier and pushed the lever forward, bringing a round to the elevator, before slowly shutting the bolt closed and chambering the large cartridge – making sure it wasn’t heard over the motorcycle’s belching. He inserted the extra round into the magazine and put his thumb on the hammer to slowly set it at half-cock, again. Priming the weapon before it was going to serve a specific purpose for the hundredth time over – bagging game.

* * *

It wasn’t long until the group had reached their destination, setting the motorcycle aside a good distance from the road. Junkrat, Roadhog, and the Courier climbed atop a dune to get a vantage point of the road they were going to stake, Nathan being given the responsibility of bringing Jerry with them on his rope-leash. The goat more than ornery about being dragged along by the big human.

“C’mon!” Nathan exclaimed, his strength not enough to coax the horned beast to him. “You horned fuck, let’s go!”

Eventually, Brin ended up grabbing one of its horns for leverage and walked him over to the other two, who were waiting atop the hill. Junkrat was peering through binoculars as Roadhog just stood next to him and watched the road. When Nathan finally reached them, he lets go of Jerry and walks over to the two Junkers to look at the road for himself. Like every other road out here, this road stretched on for miles into the horizon, behind and in front of them. However, on the horizon they were facing, he could faintly see a difference in the scenery of the land hundreds of miles away from them. Noticing how different the weather and the clouds looked over there, even from this distance. It almost looked very familiar, but he just couldn’t tell without getting any closer or inside for himself. Only hoped he packed enough Rad-Away.

“Okay, mate, here’s the plan,” Junkrat said, standing up to his full height to address the other tall man. “Soon coming down from that road will be one of the Queen’s scavenging convoys from the Omnium. Roadie and I’ll head down to that road and set up alongside it. Wait for the scrapping party to arrive. And…”

Junkrat bent down and hoisted a big burlap sack over his shoulder, giggling even more as he could barely contain himself.

“ _Kaboom!!!_ ” the explosives expert articulated, making huge gestures with his arms. “Scare the absolute piss out of them with our ‘fireworks’! Oooohhhh, I love pissing off the Queen!”

“And that’s where I come in,” Nathan stated.

“What…? Oh… Yeah. Right. That’s where _you_ come in. You do whatever hero-types like to do, and ‘save’ the wankers. Remember to be as convincing as you can! Remember, don’t screw this up!”

“You’d sooner blow yourself up jerking with nitroglycerin than I’d fuck this up.”

“Heh, I don't doubt that! I’d knew I’d like you more than those other Overwatch blokes.”

Jamison chuckled as he patted Nathan on the shoulder before hopping off and sliding down the dune to get to the road. Roadhog was about to follow his accomplice, but stopped and turned his mask to the Courier’s helmet and stared at him for several moments. Nathan, once again, returning the gesture and craning his head at the larger man. Both maintaining their gazes for the duration of their impromptu staring contest, unfaltering even under their masks.

“Don’t try anything,” Roadhog threatened, his voice deep and gravelly, sounding as if he breathed in clouds of rotting air.

“What about you?” the Courier asked, his voice laden with a growl.

Roadhog let out a scoff as he regarded the Courier for several moments longer.

“Oi, Roadie! Get moving you big lug!”

The fat Junker looked to the road and cast another glance to Nathan, before snorting and walking away down the dune to join up with his partner. The Waster watching him go.

‘He might be a bit more difficult,’ he observed, reaching up and grabbing his Brush Gun. ‘At least he’s a big target.’

Brin took a knee and perched himself along the dune, getting ready as Junkrat and Roadhog set explosives along the road. Switching on his lowlight vision, he could see through the scope for his lever-action, the crosshair hovering over the two with every move they made. The man taking an interest in the way the slim one set up his explosives. Certainly knew his stuff as he crossed every wire, applied the right adhesives, and flipped the right switches with ease. His finger hovered over the trigger, and the thought of ending it right there most certainly crossed his mind multiples times when he was presented with an opportunity, which was most of the time as he looked at them. However, he still needed someone to lead him to the Omnium and help retrieve the fusion core Overwatch needed, so the bounty hunter would have to postpone his plans for now. He was fine with waiting if the rewards were promising.

It didn’t take long for them to finish, setting up explosives on both sides of the road and running to find a place to hide. As Nathan tracked them, he saw them stop behind a sizable rock and hunker down, out of view from the road. Junkrat peaked out from cover and looked to the dune to give a thumbs-up, the man with the rifle returning the gesture.

When he got behind cover, Junkrat pulled out his jury-rigged grenade launcher, slammed in a box of cherry-red bombs into its “receiver”, and pulled back the charging handle that was the pommel for a gearshift. After he did so, he turned to his partner.

“Hey, Roadie,” he whispered, catching his attention. “You trust him?”

“No,” the masked man said.

“Me neither. Hope Jerry didn’t shit out those C4 snags we fed him, in case he tries anything. Good thing he took a liking to the bloke’s coat. It’ll keep ‘im close.”

“…”

“What? I told you, mate. Jaz won’t feel a thing!”

And so, the party of misfits plus a goat hunkered in their spots as they gazed at the horizon for the convoy of cars to come. To unsuspectedly spring their trap. If all that goes on without a hitch, then the rest of the plan is set in motion. The closer Nathan is to getting those fusion cores and back to furniture that didn’t have as many scars as he did. Funny how the Waster was starting to miss such a thing, but there were worse complaints to have. Maybe this world was just making him a bit too squishy.

‘That’ll be the day,’ the Courier thought as he adjusted his position, making his rifle’s stock snug against his shoulder.

Next, for the better part of an hour, the group waited in the same spots and kept themselves ready for their ambush. Most of them, at least, as Nathan spotted Jamison occasionally standing up from his rock and doing things to keep himself occupied. Even spotting him juggling some red balls he had, his colleague watching with some intrigue.  The Waster had to remind himself he was following _his_ plan.

Occasionally, Nathan had to push away Jerry from his coat or to stop him ramming the side of his body with those horns. The goat didn’t seem to give a fuck what the human had to say about his behavior, so he kept doing as he pleased and only served to annoy him further. He almost wanted to shoot the rude horned beast but decided not to spoil the meat too early. Focusing his eyes on the horizon and waiting for the caravan to finally appear in the distance and get this done with. He wasn’t usually the one to be impatiently growling, having been in similar scenarios where he’d have a rifle scope focused on a space for hours. Days even. Waiting for whatever target he had, even for just a moment, or else he’d lose his chance to blow their head off. However, this situation and the company he had was wearing on him a tad, which was certainly saying something. He could do with some coffee now, the cold wind making him slightly shiver as it passed over him. Instead, he pulled out his canteen and took a little sip from it, feeling himself warm up slightly and his aim becoming steadier.

After a few minutes of nothing happening, Nathan huffed and took a glance at his Pip-Boy to see what the time was. Seeing it was a getting a bit late. He shouldered his rifle and faced the horizon, going back to waiting. However, after a few more minutes of nothing, he saw something glimmer off his scope and immediately sighted in to look at the road. He narrowed his eyes as he didn’t see anything coming over the dunes in the distance. Raising his helmeted head up from his scope to take a quick glance, he noticed the lens glimmer again. Then, he turned around and could easily see in the darkness of the Outback that a convoy of lights was fast approaching them from their behind, to the North. From the complete opposite direction Junkrat said they would come from.

“I should’ve known,” Brin muttered under his breath, taking off his helmet.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dune, Junkrat and Roadhog were having a conversation. Completely unaware that their plan got flipped.

“…And that’s why I don’t go to Maccas anymore,” Junkrat said, rolling his eyes. “Their service is just-”

“FAWKES!!!”

Their ears perked hearing that, and they both stood up to see the man in black armor standing over the dune and waving to them.

“Oi, what’s the problem?” Jamison asked, annoyed he was interrupted from his story.

“The convoy!” Nathan yelled at the top of his lungs. “It’s coming from the _North_!”

Junkrat’s eccentric gaze widened upon hearing that last word, and Roadhog just lets out a deep sigh as he visibly sulked, muttering insults towards his colleague.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no! That can’t be right!” the criminal mastermind refused, reaching into his shorts and pulling out a map. “From what I’ve gathered, the convoys supposed to arrive an hour before and leave an hour after. We should be-”

“Daylight Savings Time,” his side-kick simply stated, then watching as Junkrat’s brain began to short-circuit from the inside.

“Oh, right… Been meaning to set my clock for that… NEW PLAN!”

He yelled at the top of his lungs, somehow hopping high enough to land onto the rock he’s been hiding behind and addressing the air around him as if he had a crowd gathered even though there were only two others he could’ve been talking to.

“We need to find new hiding spots, now!” Junkrat exclaimed. “The Truckies will see us where we are. As the Royal Crown would say, ‘ _leg it_!!!’”

 The two Junkers then began to haul ass to the other side of the road, getting far away from their original spot. The wiry one making long strides across the road, and the fat one thumping across the sand as he followed. Nathan copied their strategy and slid down the dune he was perched on and began making a dash for something farther away. Not too close to the road, and not too close to where the Junkers were hiding. Running with his Brush Gun in his hands, the sand practically collapsing under his large frame, he had just passed the rock they had used when he saw beams of light flash across the sky behind him. Seeing the beams get brighter and the sound of engines get louder, Nathan saw there wasn’t much cover where he was running. Thinking fast, the Waster dove into the base of a dune and buried himself under a hill of sand, trying to get it all around him and hoping any disturbances he made in the sand wouldn’t get spotted in the darkness.

Then, just scant moments later, the lead car of the caravan appeared and sped by on the road being trailed by other vehicles. Their designs and décor obviously like the car from yesterday, equally lacking in taste but overflowing with wasteland vanity. However, one of the cars in the middle was a huge semi-truck hauling a large trailer container that looked more like something on a garbage truck. With several vehicles, including the big-rig, it was a modest looking caravan at best. The guns and armaments the smaller vehicles had looked discouraging, at first, but they weren’t deal breakers for them. Just further inconveniences for Nathan.

“Alright, Roadhog…” Junkrat said, sitting atop another nearby dune. “Time to put the kibosh on this road trip-”

Suddenly, the lead car in the front slammed on its breaks and skidded to a halt along the road, making the others behind it stop as well and nearly crash into each other.

Junkrat paused and nearly prematurely set off his IED’s, as the lead car stopped mere meters from where they were. Nathan looked at the road in surprise as well, seeing people in the front car get out.

“Ay, what’s the holdup?” a Junker in the second car yelled out.

“There’s a fuckin’ goat on the road…” a Junker from the lead car said.

“Oh, piss,” Junkrat muttered.

The three had realized that Jerry was in the middle of the road, exactly where the two had placed the booby traps for the caravan. Nathan really wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose at that moment, but his helmet was the only thing keeping all the sand out of his face. Junkrat and Roadhog exchanged glances with each other before looking at the detonator the explosives expert was holding.

“Welp, at least we gave Jaz an ace life,” Junkrat said, planting his thumb on the little red button.

However, rather than getting a big, thunderous explosion of fireworks and IED’s to shock and awe the convoy, he got nothing as the detonator just clicked. Surprised, Jamison began to repeatedly tap on his detonator, clicking the little red button. Banging it a few times against his metal hand. Wondering what was wrong.

Meanwhile, the Junker from the lead car got closer to the goat, squatting to get on eye level.

“Hold on, this goat’s eating something,” he said, cautiously taking a closer look.

“What?” one of the other Junkers questioned.

“It…It looks like string? And it’s got a name tag.”

He slowly reached forward and grabbed the little piece of metal dangling off the goat’s neck, bringing it into view of their lights.

“‘Jerry’.”

“ _Jerry_?! Isn’t that the bloody goat _Junkrat and Roadhog_ stole from Gingin?!”

“Wait, is it? What is it doing all the way out here eating wire from the ground…?”

The Junker, putting two and two together, rocketed up and pulled out his gun from his holster.

“Fuck! Get back!” he exclaimed, pointing his gun at Jerry.

However, before he could even do anything to the goat, a gunshot boomed across the sand and made one side of his head explode into a bloody crater, instantly dropping him to the ground. The Junkers in the caravan and the Junkers atop the dune all stopped and looked up to see a tall man in black armor covered in sand and ejecting a brass casing from an ancient rifle. His eyes glowing a bright, blood-red in the dim light.

Quickly, the Courier began firing at the other Junkers, his Brush Gun already knocking down two as they got out of their cars. A Junker gets on the lead escort-vehicle’s turret and rotates it to the red-eyes, but is cut down without even getting his fingers on the heavy weapon’s trigger. More shots go off from the attacker, his hand expertly manipulating the lever-action without missing a beat and landing his shots equally so. Reacquainting himself with an old friend.

As he cuts Junkers down, the driver in the dump truck panics and tried to back up but only slams into the escort-vehicles behind. Not caring, however, he goes forward a bit and puts it in reverse again, backing up and slamming into them again. Some of the men jumping out of the way. He tries to repeat this for the third time, but a series of gunshots and grenade blasts annihilate the junk-cars behind and create a pile of debris blocking his path.

“Eh, I like to keep things real,” Junkrat shrugged, before guffawing as he launched bombs down onto the poor Junkers below, and Roadhog sent high-velocity balls of scrap into their ranks as well. The duo ripping them to shreds, blowing them into bits, or a combination of the two. The resulting gibs of matter peppering the road. “That seppo sure did a piss-poor job acting, though. He didn’t even try!”

Their visitor didn’t slack off either, resuming fire with his Brush Gun after a speedy reload and swinging the lever to chamber the first. Amidst his fire, he noticed a pair of headlights shine to him and turned to see a car rapidly driving towards him. Narrowly, he jumped and rolled to the side, getting a face full of sand but avoiding getting crushed by the machine. Turning his head to face the rev of its engine, the car was speeding towards him again but Brin took a quick shot towards the driver seat and watched it instantly lose control. Wobbling towards him now, he dodged it once again and it turned and tumbled across the road before hitting a sand dune, flinging a high cloud of sand into the air.

Then, another shrill engine rev pierced the air as he suddenly felt something crash into his back and he was tumbled ten meters across the sand. Even with armor, the force was enough to instantly make him ache, but he looked up and sunk low to the ground just in time to dodge something gliding over him at high speeds. Rocketing up, he turned to see not a car, but a floating motorcycle that had spikes all over its body and long poles sticking out of its rear… With Omnic heads upon them.

That sight genuinely caught Nathan off-guard, his eyes gazing up at the pikes and seeing they were heads that looked almost like Zenyatta’s. Enough so that it was too late for him as the motorcycle crash into him head-on, now hanging over the vehicle’s handlebars and clinging for dear life. He narrowly missed the spikes, but the driver looked down at him before pulling out a gun from his holster. Nathan jumped and grabbed his wrist, but ended up turning the handlebars and causing the bike to tip over and crash into the sand. Tumbling to a stop, they both land feet from each other, but the Waster is the first one to recover quickly and stomps over to the driver. The biker Junker tries scrambling to his gun but is pulled away by the feet before hands grab onto his neck and leg. With a roar, the Courier hoists the man high into the air and slams him into the spiked hood of one of the escort-vehicles, impaling his victim on a dozen blades of varying size and rust. Standing back to look at the sorry bastard twitch as he bleeds like a stuck Molerat, another shrill motorcycle cry sounds off to his right, seeing another rider firing a gun at him. Unfazed as the ground pops at his feet, he walks over to the Junker he turned into Swiss cheese and slid him off the spikes. Grabbing ahold of his neck and leg again, he watched the other bike get closer and closer, standing his ground with blood pouring all over his hands and boots. Then, as it was meters away from him, he heaves and throws the bloodied corpse onto the driver, making her and the bike fall and roll across the sand. The bike getting out of control and crashing behind the tuck, before exploding into a ball of fire from all the mayhem happening on that side. The driver, while not much luckier, had come to a halt much sooner as her body slammed into the side of the dump-truck and left a splatter of blood on the door.

The driver of the truck was on the cabin floor, in the fetal position and hugging his hands to his ears to block out all the gunfire and explosions. Then, after minutes of hearing the world end again outside, he waited and rocked for several moments before opening his eyes and seeing the fighting had stopped. However, he heard footsteps in the sand approaching his cabin and felt it shake as someone was clambering to the driver-seat door. He flinched as someone broke through the windows and unlocked the door from the inside. Opening, a hand reached in and grabbed the driver by the collar of his shirt to pull him outside. He panicked, trying to grab onto something to hold but could do nothing more as he was thrown out from the cabin and fell to the sandy road. Rolling onto his back, he holds up his hands as the red-eyes hover over him, the barrel of a sandy lever-action up against his face.

“P-please! I-I’m just a truckie! I’m just a truckie!” the Junker pleaded, shaking uncontrollably.

Before he could do anything else about the straggler, Nathan heard the click of a peg leg and saw Junkrat and Roadhog come up to them from the wreckage behind the truck with freshly smoking weapons.

“That was fun!” Junkrat exclaimed, before frowning. “But you might need to work on your acting, mate. There’s no way in hell these blokes’ll put in the good word for you with the Queen, now. Especially since most of them are dead.

Then, out of the wreckage, Jerry the Goat walks past them and towards the open door of the truck, hopping up and ripping out strips from the cabin’s leather upholstery with his mouth. Roadhog huffs and makes his way to the truck, as well, checking up on the goat. Nathan looked at the big truck, seeing it was the only vehicle in this caravan that wasn’t a pile of scrap.

“Maybe, not,” Nathan said, heaving his rifle over his shoulder. “I think we got ourselves a big prop to help us.”

He cast a helmeted gaze to the man lying on the ground, before crouching down and getting to eye-level with him. The terrified Junker cringing into the sand.

“You drive this thing?” the Courier questioned.

“Uh… Y-yes! Y-yes, I can!” the Truckie exclaimed, desperately.

“Good, I won’t kill you, then. Congratulations.”

Nathan stood up to his full height and regarded Jamison, who watched the exchange with intrigue and a furrowed brow.

“I think I found you a new ‘trolley’ and a new ticket inside Junkertown,” the Waster said, casting a thumb at the truck.

“How do you reckon?” the flaming Junker asked, more than curious.

“The Queen’ll be wondering what happened to her scrapping caravan, so when it does come back, albeit delayed, I’ll hop out and explain to her it, unfortunately, fell victim to ‘Junkrat and Roadhog’. I’ll come bearing two gifts: all the loot you had beforehand and a possession from both of you to make her think I killed you. Let me get close to her, blow her to kingdom come, and seal my part of the deal. How does that sound?”

Fawkes regarded him for several moments longer, his mechanical hand rubbing more soot off his chin. Then, after much deliberation, the fire at the tips of his hair grew brighter and he gained a face-splitting grin.

“I like it,” Jamison expressed. “I like it _a lot_! The deception, the denial, and breaking her expectations in the best possible way imaginable. Good onya, mate!”

“We gotta improvise,” Nathan simply responded, knowing his plan still wouldn’t be soundproof and that luck was largely required on his part. However, he just didn’t have the time nor patience to find an alternative solution. It was sounder than trying to be a chivalrous knight of yore, though. “Even if all the cards ain’t on the table.”

* * *

Making the long trek back to the homestead, the dump-truck was parked behind the building and out of sight from anyone desperate enough to visit this bone-dry paddock. The Truckie had been thoroughly restrained to the couch. Junkrat and Roadhog were gracious hosts to the man, letting him have some leftover canned food they just had lying in the fridge. Junkrat happily chatting to him about the virtues of chemical synthesization while Roadhog hovered over him and his personal space, making the Truckie more than uneasy as he munched on potted meat. Nathan watched them for a while, leaning against the doorway. However, after a few minutes, he decided to go outside and catch some of the fresh Outback air with a smoke break.

Walking away from the doorway and stepping out onto the porch, Nathan looked around to greet the emptiness of the desert, again. Nothing but a few tall rocks and junk around the house. Easy to miss for anyone drifting by. He’ll admit he wouldn’t mind living in a place like this. Enough space and seclusion to leave him to do whatever the hell he wanted. Far enough away from people, but habitable.

He spotted the pole with the crowned clock and walked over to it, taking a seat on a metal box. The Waster looked out to the Australian vistas, again, before taking off his helmet and setting it aside. Next, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his pack of smokes. It felt a bit light, so that would be something else he’d have to worry about if he wants to keep his nerves sated with nicotine.

Hugging a cig in his lips, he brought his engraved lighter to the tip and lit it. Watching the little flame dance in front of him before snapping it close. Pocketing his lighter, he pulls on his cigarette and makes the tip burn as orange as the sand. Then, expelling a large cloud up to the starry sky. The Waster looked at them, noting how different they seemed in this hemisphere. He still hasn’t gotten used to that feeling, the idea that he’s going to completely different continents in a matter of days. Hopping around the world like he hopped around the Mojave. Probably seen more of this world than anyone’s ever seen of his world back home. It was getting confusing to wrap his mind around this concept so often and so frequently, and he feels he’s starting to forget about the Transportalponder. Kind of forgetting how it looked, too.

Bringing up his cigarette to take another drag, he looked to his left, away from the homestead, and spotted the recently disturbed earth that marked the grave for the five Junkers who made the poor choice of following him. At least he wasn’t entirely to blame for all them becoming worm food. However, as he stared at the grave and tasted tobacco, his left ear picked up a slight buzzing noise. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what that was until he looked down at his own helmet.

Nathan picked it up, sorrowfully setting his cigarette aside for now, and put it on to hear the voice of his Gorilla boss.

“Hello, Nathan? Are you there?” Winston asked.

“Loud and clear, chief,” he responded, groaning a little.

“Oh, good to hear you. How are things, so far?”

“I was having a smoke break until you decided to interrupt it.”

“Oh, well, sorry about that. Um, how’s the mission, then? Thing’s progressing smoothly, I hope?”

“Well, I’ve met the contacts to learn they were a bunch of wastrels, I’ve killed around a dozen people in this country, thus far, and I think I’m going to be committing tyrannicide tomorrow, again. So, yeah. Getting along swimmingly, I guess.”

“Oh… Well… Uh… Good to know? Umm, you are working to retrieve those fusion cells, yes?”

“That’s why I’m here. Oh, and you’d be happy to know my carbine works.”

“That’s great to hear! And… That’s all I have to say, Nathan. Just wanted to know how things are working out for you in the Outback.”

“Mmhmm…” Nathan said, tipping his helmet up to take a quick drag from his cigarette.

“And… I hope you don’t mind but is it okay if I put Angela on the line, now? Uh, she wants to speak you.”

Of all the things Nathan expected to happen throughout this entire turbulent day, this was not one of them by a long shot.

“Oh… Uh, sure thing…” he croaked out, his eyes shifting uncertainly.

“Thanks. Goodbye.”

The radio in his ear was silent for a moment after that, waiting for someone to come over it, but he eventually heard a voice come through the line.

“Nathan?” Angela’s voice called into his ear. “Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Dr. Ziegler,” Nathan responded. “Uh, what’s up?”

“Oh, thank goodness you’re okay. I just wanted to check in on you, Nathan, see if everything was all right where you are.”

“Uh, things have been dandy, Doctor,” Brin replied, looking down at the palm of his blood-stained gloves. “But I ain’t hurtin’ too bad.”

“That’s good to hear, Nathan. How are things over there?”

“Oh, fine. Fine. Just wonderful, with me and this shoddy cast of characters…! I mean, the biggest hit I’ve sustained so far in my visit here is a goat eating my clothes and sand getting in my boots, so there’s that.”

“Heh, I’m really sorry for your loss, then,” Angela said, with an audible smirk. “Any other woes you’d like to discuss?”

Nathan was silent for the moment after she asked that question, trying to think if he had anything else to say.

“Yeah, um…” he began, thinking a bit more about what to say. “How are you? Things still running smoothly back at Gibraltar?”

“Relatively so, yes,” the Doctor replied. “Aida’s been a real help around the infirmary and everyone seems to be in good condition. For now. Things have been quiet since you’ve left for Australia. It’s kinda scary really.”

“I’d imagine. Sorry, to bring that burden upon you, Doctor.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Just a bit quiet, that’s all… Funny, before I joined back I used to relish in every moment of peace and quiet I would have as if it would be my last. Now, I’m mainly just getting bored sitting in my office, watching supplies, shuffling paperwork, and staring at my Valkyrie suit. Very exciting.”

“Damn, I might as well be there, then! Don’t wanna let you be by your lonesome in that dangerous environment.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. But I don’t need a chaperone every time, mister. I’m fine.”

“I’d hope.”

Suddenly, Nathan heard movement on Angela’s line and heard another voice come in through the speaker. It was faint, but he could recognize that withered voice anywhere.

“Angela, are you not going to come to lunch?” he heard Ana ask Dr. Ziegler. “You’ve been in your office all morning and afternoon. You need to- Are you speaking with someone?”

“Uh, n-no! I’m not!” Angela croaked out.

There was a brief silence before Nathan could then hear feet hurriedly tapping across the office floor, with Angela then shouting at Ana and something shuffling on her desk. After a few more moments of hushed noises, someone speaks into his ear.

“Hello? Who is this?” Ana questioned, as clear as daylight.

“Amari?” Nathan questioned back. “Uh, hey…”

The line became silent again until Nathan could hear a thrumming noise on the radio. Sounding like laughter.

“ _Wujud tarikh, hah_?” he heard the Egyptian say, not understanding any of it.

“ _La_! I-I mean, no!” he then heard the Swiss woman respond loudly, clearly flustered. “Can you please leave?”

“Heh, see you later, Brin.”

“Uh, see you later, ma’am…” Nathan responded, unsure what just happened.

Then, after it sounded like she left, he heard a frantic dash to the desk.

“Uh, Nathan?!” Angela came back, still sounding flustered. “Are you still there?!”

“Yeah, still here,” Nathan responded. “Going to grab some grub, now?”

“Yes… Among other things. I’ll have to cut our conversation short, unfortunately. Be careful out there, Nathan. Please remember what I said.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Dr. Ziegler. _Adíos._ ”

“Heh, _wadaea._ ”

The radio finally became silent, leaving Nathan alone in the Outback, again. He looked down to see his cigarette completely burned up, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any inaccuracies in the Arabic.


	43. Volatile Vendetta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! And oh boy, this is a long as fuck update!
> 
> I know I've said this or things like this before, but I may have to preface these newest chapters by saying: "Fuck me, what the hell did I just do?!"
> 
> I am most definitely going to mellow myself out and go back to writing more modestly-sized chapters after this for a while. Especially since school is coming up, again, and I don't want to keep juggling shit and eventually have it land in my mouth.
> 
> Sorry about the mini-rant and about the slight delay in getting this chapter out. Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy!

The Outback, Australia

2076

The sun was only beginning to peek over the mountains and boundless horizons of the Australian wilderness. The orange dirt quickly starting to warm up from the heat, but the moisture that seeped into the ground overnight made the early morning air crisp and cool. A pleasant, temporary departure from the usually sweltering atmosphere in the daytime.

Enjoying this peaceful sunrise was a group of animals sleeping close to the dried-out remains of an old tree, its trunk and branches providing shade. These animals had fur coats as brown or red as the dirt they slept on, proportionally small heads with pointed snouts and rotating ears, stubby arms with claws at the ends, a pair of legs with impressively long feet that were like paddles, and an equally impressive tail that made up almost half its body length. Some of these strange looking creatures were about the size of a grown adult human, but some looked even larger. Most of them were still sleeping on the ground, but a few others were wide-awake and awkwardly moved around at a snail's pace. Moving as if they were crawling because of their odd construction. One of the animals that were awake was the biggest specimen in the group, with a coat in a brilliant shade of orange. This big buck meandered about, occasionally nibbling on some shrubs but mostly lounging around and looking out for the rest of his troop. Sporting some impressive muscles for a mammal, and stood to his full height to help him look all around. His large ears sometimes twitching in place, his face seemingly locked in a permanent glare. The brush looking clear for the group.

At least, until something thundered in the distance and the big buck collapsed to the ground as something hit him right on the side of his chest. The rest of the troop instantly rocketed to their long feet and ran away from the tree shelter. Well, more like hopping, as the marsupials jumped away from the dead buck. His coat becoming a tinge redder.

As they hopped away, the New Californian walked through the brush with his game rifle in his hands and watching the others move. Silently intrigued by how they could move so fast and far with just a bounce in their step. One of the weirder creatures he's seen out here, aside from Junkers.

Getting to his kill, Nathan crouched down and examined the corpse, noting how it seemed to be almost as tall as him. It got a clean, quick death. Didn't suffer long and clearly not convulsing on the ground. .45-70 will usually do that to any game its pointed at, which was good since the hunter didn't know where its heart specifically was. Could've been shooting its liver for all he knew.

Nonetheless, the Arroyo Tribal crouched down and took off his right glove, feeling the marsupial's fur. It was surprisingly soft, like a velvet suit against his skin. Only getting course as he got towards its muscly tail, but that didn't discourage him. He cared most about how this thing tasted.

Holstering his Brush Gun, he grabbed his kill and hoisted it over his left shoulder. It was a heavy animal to haul through the brush, but he's hiked up mountains with heavier backpacks of equipment. He didn't mind working for his food, and it was still chilly enough in the morning to make the trek bearable. The only thing on the Waster's mind was why the kangaroo didn't have any horns…

* * *

Fully daytime back at the homestead, Junkrat clambered out of his messy bed before hopping down to the barn floor. Stretching his arms high into the air and satisfyingly cracking his joints to relieve some stress. Today was a very big day, and he could barely contain his excitement when a beaming smile graced his dirty features. Starting it off with a very big stride, a peg leg forward.

After he sauntered past the couch, which still had the Truckie tied to it but sleeping rather peacefully upon the cushions, he made his way to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. With an orange sunrise before them, he then sees his other roommate outside and doing something. He was about to ask what until the smell and sound of something cooking on a pan hit him. Making him even more excited for the morning.

"Is that…?" Junkrat began, taking a big whiff of the morning air then feeling his mouth begin to water. "Freshly cooked  _roo_ , I smell?"

Roadhog didn't say anything as he handed him a tin plate with a freshly cooked piece of kangaroo chops and a fork, going back to the portable stove he had set up off the porch. Jamison wasted no time stabbing the fork into his meal, taking a bite of the juicy piece of marsupial meat. Moaning with delight as he chowed down.

"As always, your cooking is to die for, mate," Junkrat complimented as he took another hearty chunk from his kangaroo steak. "Definitely needed for the big day we have ahead of us. Surprise you had time to bag us some brekkie, though."

Roadhog glanced at him for a second and went back to cooking more breakfast. Junkrat frowned at him in response.

"Wait, who brought us the kangaroo, then?" the verbose Australian asked.

"I did."

He heard a knife slicing through flesh and looked to his left to see a big kangaroo hanging from the support beam being butchered by their guest. Cutting slabs of meat from them before dropping them onto a platter full of kangaroo chops. Wearing a leather apron over his shirt and jeans, shielding himself from spurts of blood. Plenty of blood over his bare hands, though.

"Woke up early to take a shit. Couldn't get back to sleep. So, I went out looking for something to eat," Nathan explained, pulling down more of the kangaroo's hide before getting to the other bits of meat. "Found this guy along the way and brought him back."

"You know how to butcher kangaroo?"

"No. Rutledge taught me."

"…Who?"

Nathan paused from what he was doing and turned to give the Junker an incredulous glare. Jamison frowned and looked to Roadhog but saw he was also staring with his mask. He maintained that gaze for a few more moments until he shook his head and went back to cooking.

"Your colleague?" Brin then said, rolling his eyes as he went back to butchering.

"Oh, roight," Fawkes recanted, but still somewhat unsure. "Anyways, we have a big day ahead of us gentlemen! Today is finally the day we get to usurp the Queen!"

"I know. You keep yelling it."

"Then it's utmost importance shouldn't be overstated! And as soon as she's out of the picture and can be buried in a bottle, we'll be more than happy to repay you, mate."

"I'm counting on it, but I still don't have a lot of faith in this plan."

"Ah, don't worry. Not sure how things usually are like back at Overwatch, but you can always count on professionals like us."

"Yeah…"

Nathan got the last piece of edible meat from the kangaroo and threw it onto the tray, going over to a bucket of water and washing the blood off. Then, stringing the apron on a nail in the support beam.

"Us versus an entire town of her cronies? Odds are clearly in our favor," he stated with a deadpan voice.

"That's the spirit!" Jamison exclaimed. "Now, I gotta wake up the Truckie. Hope he doesn't mind roo chops."

Without hesitation, Junkrat ran back inside with his springy legs thumping against the wood. Nathan stepped away from the butchered kangaroo and sat down on the porch, the wood creaking under his weight. Subsequently, a plate of steaming roo chops with a side of diced potatoes and spinach was handed to him, looking up to see Rutledge had finished cooking. Brin took the plate and tipped his head to show thanks, Roadhog returning a nod. The larger man stepped onto the porched, making it tremor. Nathan about to chow down on kangaroo for the first time but until he noticed something.

"You ain't gonna eat?" Nathan asked, turning around.

"I don't eat meat," Mako simply answered, looking over his shoulder, before stepping inside.

Nathan tilted his head for a moment but shrugged as he looked back to his meal. Frowning when he sees Jerry's snout licking at his sides. The man bumps his shoulder into the goat and knocks him away, and stabs a piece of meat with his fork. A bit cautiously, he quickly bites down and starts chewing on it. It was a bit lean, a bit gamey, but he was able to get through it easily before swallowing. It reminded him of Brahmin, surprisingly.

Suddenly, firecrackers started going off inside the house and Nathan rocketed to his feet to look at the front door. The noise went on for around half-a-minute, and he could hear high-pitched cackling amongst it. When it had finally ended, the cackling went on for another half-a-minute until Junkrat spoke again.

"Good morning, ya' sleepy bastard!"

Nathan only groaned and sat back down on his porch, going back to his brekkie.

* * *

On foot, the trek from Junkertown to the homestead in the middle of nowhere took about an hour-and-a-half for the Wastelander to get through at a brisk pace on-foot. In a truck, however, that time was easily more than halved as Nathan now sped along the same road he walked.

Not sightseeing out the window this time, Nathan was trying to get some shut-eye as he sat in the passenger's side seat of the truck. The ride much less rocky with the absence of actual wheels. He was like that for almost the entire drive, his left arm propped against the passenger door and resting his head on it. Drifting in and out of unconsciousness, but still able to hear the truck's engine and the passing highway wind. Then, he felt someone touched his shoulder.

Quickly, the Courier sat up and simultaneously reached to his holster, bringing the muzzle of his sidearm to the driver's seat.

"Fuck, calm down will ya', you cunt!" the Truckie exclaimed, tensing up and shielding himself as he kept driving.

Nathan stared at the truck driver for a while until he brought his handgun back into its holster.

"Sorry," he apologized, laying his back on the seat and closing his eyes, again. "What is it?"

"I was just going to say we have around 5-10 more minutes until we reach Junkertown proper," the Truckie explained, relaxing a tad without a gun barrel over him. "I radioed in earlier, so they should be expecting us at the front gate. If you need to do something, now's the best time to do it. We've got a lot of explaining to do."

"Have Rutledge and Fawkes called in, yet?"

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were already there. Probably found some nook big enough for that fat bastard to squeeze through in that shithouse of a town."

"Sure."

The Waster got more comfortable into his seat, trying to get some more rest before having to face the wasteland music. Bringing the riches to the Queen's court.

Quite a lot of pressure and hoop-jumping just to retrieve a fusion core. Probably could've just lent Overwatch one if he had something of that scope and not just one for a dingy set of Power Armor he totaled. Alas, his backpack could only hold so much.

However, Brin opened his eyes as he recanted the words the Truckie just spoke and looked at him. Next, looking at his dashboard to see the radio set on it. A functioning radio set.

"Wait a minute," Brin said, casting his eyes to the Truckie. "If you have a functioning radio, why didn't you call into Junkertown when you were being ambushed?"

"…Uh…" the Truckie croaked out, shifting his eyes to the side for a glance before looking back to the road. "I was, uh, taking cover. Hiding."

"Yeah, I clearly saw that, but I didn't see any reinforcements or anyone tailing us back to the ranch. Why?"

The truck driver was just silent for those first few seconds, glancing worriedly to the passenger's side, mindful of where his right hand was reaching. Finally, after a hot air of silence, he cleared his throat.

"Gonna be honest with you, mate," the Truckie began, his voice not nearly as trembling now. "When you blew that fuckin' wanker's head off, the first thing on my mind was to get the hell out of there in all the confusion."

"That clearly didn't work. Why, though?"

"…I-I just wanted to get away from the rest of caravan, get as far away from anything associated with the Queen. Even if that includes Junkertown, itself. Just anything to get away from her or her fucking legion of brain-dead degenerates."

"…How long have you worked for her?"

"Oh, I've been her slave for God knows how long. Been to the Omnium and hauled so much scrap that my brain feels like a scrambled egg. Sometimes I feel like I'm fucked in the head, but there is always someone else more fucked than me."

Nathan stared at him, watching him keep his eyes on the road as he drove. Looking out the windshield with an almost neurotic gaze, his body sometimes twitching unexpectedly as if there was a sudden itch. Seeing the sweat build up on his dirty forehead before wiping it away. Nathan looked out the windshield and to the road, seeing that large monolithic rock in the distance getting closer.

"Maybe you'll get some payback, today," the Courier surmised, putting his helmet on. "Then you wouldn't have to leave, anymore."

"Nah, even if your plan works – which I solemnly believe it won't – I'm fuckin' off the first chance I get," the Truckie said. "Things might get better with her out of the picture, but I'm not staying here to find out."

The cabin became silent, again, after that exchange. The truck now getting off-road and making its way to the mesa itself. The metal, jagged structures on top almost beckoning them.

"I know it probably ain't my business, but what's your stake in all of this?" the Truckie asked.

"What?"

"What's in it for you? Working with Roadhog and Junkrat to take out the Queen. I overheard something about Overwatch back at the farm… Are they really back? Back to saving the world again?"

The Courier looked at him with his helmet, his expression hidden underneath that stagnant gaze.

"I'm just trying to get a fusion core, man," Brin sighed, looking back to the road.

The rest of the ride was quiet as the truck made its way to the top of the large mesa and eventually to the gates of the Junkertown. Much quicker than they would've liked. With a clear day, the Waster could look out of the windows to see not much has changed since his last visit to the city gates. Except there were now a dozen armed guards hanging over the gate's battlements and a dozen more on either side of their truck as they moved in front of the large doors. A couple of cars parked along the path too, with heavy guns on top their canopies. The passengers looked out of the windows to deduce they were surrounded

"We're fucked," the Truckie simply said, accepting his fate.

"Not yet," the Courier responded, seeing someone on the upper battlements move to the center in-between some of the guards, holding what appeared to be a jury-rigged megaphone on a stick and not a proper stand.

"Anyone who is inside the cabin, get out and state your reason for coming back behind schedule! You have thirty seconds!"

The Truckie unclasped his seat belt and was about to hop out through his door, but he felt the passenger put a hand on his shoulder.

"You stay here and keep your hands on the wheel," the Waster commanded, unlocking his door. "I'll deal with this."

The driver didn't say anything as the passenger opened his door and hopped out of the cabin, shutting it behind him. With dozens of eyes and nearly as many rifle sights on him, the Waster walked to the front of the truck and looked up at the warden with the megaphone. Nathan's holster of rifles nowhere to be seen on his person.

"Who are you and what's your business?" the megaphone Junker yelled at him.

"I'm a courier… and I'm a courier!" the Waster cheekily answered. "Specifically, I have come bearing gifts for your Queen!"

"Yeah? And what's an out-of-towner like yourself doing with one of our trucks?"

"I also came back to return one of your own men from an ambush that had occurred to the caravan he was with, last night. I rescued him from… Two  _individuals_  that your Queen would be very happy to know are no longer with us, today."

As he said that, some of the guns exchanged confused glances and murmurs with each other. The megaphone Junker even looked back at some of his men, before putting his face up against the speaker, again.

"Do you have proof?" he questioned.

"Yes, I do, in fact," the Courier said, reaching to the back of his belt to retrieve something. An array of gun barrels was lifted at him as soon as he did that. He paused, shifting his head all around him and just throwing up one hand in annoyance.

More slowly and cautiously, he brought his arm out and produced a burlap sack with wet stains at the bottom of it. Seeing that, the warden waved and one of the armed guards on the ground ran up to the tall out-of-towner. Snatching it from his hands and taking a peep inside. However, the Junker jumped from what he saw inside the bag, everyone notices. After a few moments, he ran up to the gate and throws the bag up to the warden, grabbing it and peers inside for himself. His eyes becoming wide as disks.

"That was going to be my other gift to the Queen," the Waster explained. "Would appreciate it if you don't the ruin the surprise."

"I see…" the megaphone warden could only say, looking at the out-of-towner in disbelief. "Alright, we'll let you in, but you're going straight to the Queen!"

"That's why I'm here."

The gatekeeper frowned before he began to bark orders to the Junkers around him. The man in black armor walked back to the truck with guns still being pointed at it. Clambering back inside, he shut the door and looked at the driver to see him with a more than nervous expression. However, the city gates began to open, and as they did Nathan reached into the back of his pocket to pull out his lighter. Flipping it open, he brings the tip to a white string sticking out of the cabin's glovebox and lights it, the string sparkling and fizzling up into the inside of the cabin.

"Fawkes said we have half-an-hours' worth of fuse, so we'll have to make it snappy," Brin stated, reclining into his chair. "The Queen's not far, is she?"

"No, boss' place is right up the street," the Truckie answered, nervously looking ahead and checking his mirrors as he drove inside. "What do we do after we deliver it the loot to her?"

"Well, Fawkes gave me a little note with instructions on it, but…"

Nathan pulled out said note from his pocket, looking down at the wrinkly piece of scratch paper and seeing three very simple lines of sentences scribbled on it. It read:

"Post-Delivery Instructions"

"Step 1: Run like Hell!"

"Step 2: Grab some loot with you if Step 1 permits it."

"It's a bit lacking," Nathan merely stated, crumpling up the note and throwing it to the floor. "And judging from all those bundles of dynamite we are currently sitting upon, it'd be a good idea to put some distance between us and Junkertown, regardless. Not like you needed any convincing."

However, before their trolley even got a foot inside the city, unseen radio speakers and intercoms blasted into the air, echoing into the air before the noise cleared up. Loud enough for nearly everyone to stop and look up into the sky. Nathan had some trouble trying to look through the windshield because of his height, but he still heard it.

"Wretched scum of Junkertown!" greeted the voice of a woman, clearly with authority and virulence. "It appears we have a visitor to our irradiated paddock, today. An out-of-towner, in fact! We don't get a lot of them, these days. So, please, as your Queen demands, remember to be courteous and respectful to our new guest. Make them feel right at home. And to you, our special guest… I'll be waiting to make your acquaintance. Don't keep me waiting! This is your Queen, speaking!"

The intercoms then fizzled to silence, and things were quiet for the moment until the truck got moving again. However, the Waster sat in his seat and remembered where he's heard that voice from before. Recognizing the voice from the radio announcer the day before. The one he switched off after she spouted a bunch of hoopla. He's surprised he didn't make the connection sooner since it was always tyrants that liked to talk.

"Well, shit…"

They drove along the road regardless, armed guards flanking either side of their truck and armored cars behind and in front. Crawling along at a snail's pace, Nathan could see people begin to gather around the streets, watching their truck go like a parade. They got further inside the city, with more people coming out to see the "out-of-towner". Nathan just kept his eyes on the road ahead, watching where the escorts were leading them. But as his eyes drifted and looked to the sides, he unexpectedly glanced upon two blokes dressed up as farmers.

One was slim and lean with overalls that went up to his chest, missing an arm and using a crutch to stand. The other was fatter and taller, also with overalls that couldn't cover up most of his gut and wore a straw hat. The bigger one holding onto a leash that was tied to a goat, but whose coat had black and brown polka-dots all over it, clearly painted on. When he stared at the two "bystanders", both wearing burlap sacks masks, they waved at him. Nathan just returned the gesture, staring at them until they were out of sight.

After a few more minutes of the impromptu parade, they were eventually brought to a large, dome structure that was in the middle of the town. Hanging overhead was an orange banner that showed a white spiked bat and a serrated machete forming an x beneath a diamond figure. At the base of the sphere was another large blast door that receded into the ground to reveal a tunnel leading inside the sphere dome. However, the cars and guards stopped escorting the truck altogether and they went inside by themselves.

The interior was full of rusted and corrugated metal walls. Trash and filth littering the floor they glided upon. The path they were taking curved around this pylon in the middle of the room that had a large turbine spinning slowly through the air, surrounded by cranes and heavy equipment that were currently motionless. Judging by the rooms and the turbine, coupled with this building being some large dome, he would've guessed this was some type of power plant before it got occupied by  _less_  than productive denizens. Finally, after making a short turn around the turbine, they could see an end to their road and someone waiting at it.

Their destination was in a large room surrounded by stadium lights and overhead lights, some of them shining upon some large cog-like structure that was built into the ground, almost looking like a vault door. At the end was an alcove that looked like it was converted into a stage as large speaker systems flanked it on either side and in the center, was a fancy leather chair with faded gold outlines. It was lopsided as it was missing a leg and used a cinderblock as a substitute prop.

The owner didn't seem to mind, a fair-skinned woman with red-orange hair molded into a mohawk at the top but with a braided ponytail reaching down to her shoulder. She wore a leather vest that didn't properly fit and button at her stomach and had metal pauldrons over her shoulders – one with spikes and the other with large, feathery white tufts. She sported a pair of jeans that were worn and roughed up with multiple tears exposing her legs and a pair of black boots. Lady wasn't shy with showing off skin, as much of her midriff was exposed beneath the button of her vest, and her shirt – which had a crowned skull over a cross – looked like it was almost going to rip from the size of her rack with much of her cleavage showing. That didn't seem practical in the slightest, but her tits were the least of the Waster's concern. Finally – around her face – she had blue war paint on the skin around her eyes, a scar across her right cheek, and a ring piercing at her bottom lip.

She was pretty, but Nathan was very aware that didn't make her a damsel.

When it seemed like they drove for ages, the truck finally stopped and hovered over the vault in the floor. The cabin occupants facing the woman who lazily sat on her throne, with one elbow propped against an armchair and resting her head against it. She had an entourage of guards around her, from beefy men with little to no strips of clothing to armed personnel in trashcan armor. However, there were other people occupying the throne room and surrounding the truck, most of them looking like normal civilians who wandered in from the street. Could've been hired help, like the poor sap driving. He also noticed random pieces of weaponry scattered around the tunnel, lodged into places as if there had been fights here. Hopefully, they weren't that recent.

Things were quiet for a while after the truck had stopped, the Courier and the Truckie exchanging glances. The latter visibly more nervous. Then, the ringing intercoms went off again and they both looked to the front to see the woman grabbing the base of a microphone from a yellow-barrel stand next to her. Nathan thought the microphone looked familiar, seeing something like it in Vegas.

"Alright, you sorry bastards," she spoke, addressing them directly but letting everyone else hear. "Come out from there and let me see who decided to knock on my door. The  _Queen's_  door."

With her eyes still fixed on the truck, she gently placed the metal microphone back on its stand and waited. With a bored but oddly patient expression upon her features. Quickly exchanging glances, the two occupants opened their doors and climbed out of the truck. The Waster in black armor was the first to get his boots on the ground, shutting the door, and walking to the front of the truck.

"Oooooh, look at you!" the Queen stated, casting her eyes upon the tall man. "He's a big one, isn't he? What do you bruisers reckon? 190? 200 centimeters?"

"I've seen bigger, my Queen," one of her men said, staring down the armored man.

"Sure. Taking it up your ass," Nathan unexpectedly quipped, disrupting the tension that had been building up in the throne room and making nearly everyone burst into laughter. As if a bunch of drunken jungle birds were set loose inside the enclosed space and were immediately singing songs. Even the Queen, who had maintained a largely unassuming visage throughout the exchange, most likely to intimidate her guests, was having a hoot and a holler as she threw her head back. The guard targeted just stood there, embarrassed and shifting his eyes all over the room. Nathan just continued to stare at him under his mask, not nearly as amused at his own joke.

"And I thought yanks couldn't make jokes!" the Queen said, letting out the last of her giggles as she looked back at the man before her. "Already beginning to like you."

Then, the Truckie comes up from behind and stand next to Nathan, before kneeling to the Queen and having his head bowed to the ground.

"My Queen, I just wanted to start off by apologizing for arriving so late and-"

"Pull your head in, mate!" his Queen yelled at him, losing that grin with a scowl. "You're lucky I'm even letting you be here and not just throwing you out into the sticks for your incompetence. Or  _worse_. Let our guest speak, and maybe he'd give a better answer than your unreliable arse can!"

Nathan looked down to see the Truckie still kneeling and keeping his eyes on the ground, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He then heard murmuring from behind and looked back to see some of the crowd of civilians gathered around, but among them, peaking out a window to some room within the wall, were the two exiles in farmer's clothing. The slim one waving and tapping his wrist with his right stub. Nathan looked back at the truck itself and remembering what he had to do.

"Well?" the Queen said, bringing his attention back to the front. "What brings you here, outsider?"

The Waster took one more glance at the truck, before facing the Junker Queen and clearing his throat. Thinking back to the nights he's spent at bars, chatting with pretty women with a certain goal in his mind. Never thought he'd use it like  _this_ …

"Well, you see your 'Majesty', if I may call you that?" the Courier started off, almost in disbelief at what he just said.

"You may…" the Queen responded, the corners of her lips tugging a bit.

"I've visited your…  _fine city_  not too long ago and may have been a bit of a troublemaker, despite being explicitly warned not to. While I am deeply sorry for any inconveniences that may have caused, there was a reason I was skulking around here, asking questions. And I'm afraid some of those questions  _offended_  some of your men that day. I don't hold any regrets about what I did to defend myself. Your men were too drunk to be reasonable."

"Hmm, why am I not surprised…? Jackson! Get out here, now!"

Beckoned to her like a dog, a shirtless Junker with bandages around his hand appeared from the crowd and walked before the stage, standing next to Nathan. Instantly recognizing him as the one he skewered to the bar a day ago.

"I thought I told you-!" the Courier began growling at him, making the Junker shrink away.

"Now, now, there's no need for violence… Yet," the Queen said with a smirk. "I just want a little explanation; Jackson, what did our guest do that made you pull a knife on him?"

The Junker nervously glanced at her, then at the Courier, seeing he hasn't stopped glaring at him.

"Well, my Queen, he was, uh, asking around," he explained. "Looking for someone."

"Who?" his Queen asked.

"Junkrat and Roadhog! That's who!"

The crowd and some of the guards murmured among each other from hearing those not-so-welcomed names, while Nathan just cast a silent glance back at the two "farmers". Taking a quick glance at the clock on his Pip-Boy, after.

"Do you know why?" the head Junker demanded.

"Well… Uh… No, I-"

"I was asking around for them because I was hunting them," the Courier cut off and explained, staring down the Junker before regarding the Queen. "I was after the bounty that was on both of their heads. He'd assumed it wasn't going to be that, and he may have been right… If I haven't brought evidence to the contrary with me in a burlap sack… Where is that by the way? I gave it to one of your men."

With a wave of her hand, one of the Junkers from the alcove ran up to Nathan and handed him the burlap sack. Everyone could see that it was wet with dark stains, and the ones who were closest could tell that it also didn't smell that great. The Queen still sat lazily in her chair, curling a curious eyebrow to what may be inside. Nathan peered into the bag to make sure, then reached in and brought the two items high into the air for everyone to see. In the palm of his hand, everyone saw Junkrat's orange robotic arm and Roadhog's stitched-up gasmask, covered in blood and flesh. A lot of people gasped, a lot of people started to murmur, and the Queen sat up in her seat with interest in her eyes.

"They were in the middle of assaulting one of your caravans when I finally tracked 'em down. Where I also rescued this 'truckie' from. So, your Majesty, they won't be bothering you or anyone, anymore," the Courier announced, tossing the two Junker's belongings onto the floor towards the Queen.

"Oi, that wasn't a part of the script!" Junkrat said in hushed tones. "He best be mindful of that. I've only got one!"

"Well, this certainly is quite the gift…" the Queen let out, looking at the two pieces of proof before drifting her eyes up at the tall man. "And I'm certainly happy to be rid of them, finally! But, I was told that wasn't the only gift for me?"

"And you would be right in your assumption, 'Countess of the Wastes'!" the Waster responded, almost wanting to punch himself in the dick after he said that. "After I bagged the two degenerates, your Truckie and I took the surviving truck and made a trip to their homestead. I wanted to be thorough with my kill, see if there may have been something I missed. What we found there is… Well, I'll let my generosity speak for itself."

The Queen tilted her head, a sly smile beginning to grow on her face but still somewhat wary of the out-of-towner. After he said that, Nathan turned to the Truckie and tipped his helmet up, exposing his mouth.

"Turn the truck around, so I can show the loot. When everyone's distracted, get out and leave before shit starts blowing up. Got one chance, be quick!" he whispered rapidly, before setting his helmet down again and patting him on the shoulder.

The Truckie just looked up at him in disbelief.

"What are you waiting for? Don't keep the lovely lady waiting. Move it!"

The Truckie did as he was told, dashing off to the right side of the truck and hopping in with newfound haste. Eventually, the floating truck began to spin around slowly until its rear end was facing the throne. Nathan walked up to the lever that controlled the rear door of the truck and wrapped his hand around it. Everyone present in the "court" looked on with curiosity, but some of the guards were a bit wary and kept their hands close to their weapons. The Queen intently stared at the man's every move, impatient to find out what else she was going to receive. However, Nathan deliberated until he saw the driver's side door open and pulled hard on the lever.

When the machine opened, the large metal gate lifted into the air, a sea of gold coins and bags of money rushed out of the truck. Quickly flooding onto the floor, people from the crowds almost scrambling to the pile of riches before the guards stopped them. Even a large metal safe flew out from the truck and landed onto the floor with a thud, the door popping open with multiple gold bars popping out. Nathan had to shield himself with his arm from some of the falling loot until it had died down after a few seconds. However, his eyes widened for a moment when he noticed a strip of the fuse sticking out from the pile of gold, still fizzling. Quickly stepping in front of it.

"Ta-da!" he exclaimed, stretching his arms out like a Deathclaw about to bag lunch. Just glad he was finally done. 'You fucking bitch!'

Now, the Queen was awestruck, her eyes as wide as the Outback and glowing like the gold she was staring at. After a few moments of gawking at the riches, she shook her head and regained her composure. She stood up from her throne, making everyone in the court quiet to look at her, and grabbed something to her side. One of the long staff-like weapons. Nathan wondered what she was going to do until the woman arched back and launched the staff towards him, surprising him for a split-second before he rolled to the side. The air shifted where he felt the spear almost hit him, and he looked to the left to see that weapon instead speared the Junker whose hand he split in half, the blade sticking out of his back. The poor subject gurgled and coughed as he slowly looked at the man in black armor, before collapsing onto the floor. Unfortunately, the blood that spewed from him splashed onto the fuse and snuffed out the spark. The rest of the thread now inert.

'Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me!' he wanted to scream out, release all the anguish and frustration that's been building up to this moment, without a cathartic release to keep him sated in sight.

"Oh, piss…" Junkrat said, witnessing what just happened. "Didn't expect that."

However, after staring at the blood-drenched fuse, he snapped his head to the Queen and sees her with a proud, predatory grin.

"That's what he gets for interfering with my  _champion_!" the Queen of Junkertown pridefully boasted, not needing a microphone for it to echo across her court.

"Uh, your  _what_?!" Brin asked, hearing something he absolutely did not want to hear.

"My champion, champion!" the Queen reiterated, sauntering up to the out-of-towner, and planting both of her hands onto his shoulders. Realizing up close she was quite tall, only a couple inches shorter than him, and displayed a set of well-built arms. Feeling her firm grip through his coat. "Not only did you get rid of those two insufferable irrits, but you also hauled me the score of a lifetime! No one else under my ranks has ever done such a task for me, and I'd never expect it to be from an out-of-towner, nonetheless a yank. Not that that has anything to do with it, but I do  _adore_ your accent!"

"Oh, how flattering…"

"What? Is something wrong…?"

"Oh, no! It's just… I was going to drop off all this loot so there wasn't any bad blood between us because I was going to leave after. Didn't want any of your men tailing me as soon as I went outside."

"Well, you've certainly made up for all your past 'crimes' against Junkertown, but this is above and beyond the call! Mate, this calls for a proper, Aussie celebration in your name!"

"Oh, you don't have to do that-!"

Suddenly, Nathan was hoisted over the shoulders of two big blokes as he was carried amongst a crowd of cheering Junkers. The man in black armor looked around, silently panicking, and trying to find another way out of this. However, the Queen went to her throne and bent down to her microphone, making the intercoms clang once more.

"My fellow Junkers, in honor of our most recent guest, we will be having a celebration at the  _Scrapyard_! Bring your nan, bring your kids, for this will be a party you will not want to miss! All on behalf of your righteous queen and ruler, me!"

After her announcement, the crowd began to move, the Waster, unfortunately, being dragged along with the Queen of Junkertown not too far behind. Affixing a very noticeable crown atop her head from the pile of loot. The truck and the rest of the loot were also being taken away by some of the Queen's henchmen, soon getting out of the way and bringing it to storage. As the boisterous crowd made it ways to the celebration and the inactive boom-truck was driven out of the court, those left were two men in overalls and one goat with dripping spots. They just stood there, watching their entire plan go off the rails.

"Oi… What just happened?!"

* * *

The Queen's court was cleared, but it wasn't long for the sidelines and "bleachers" to get filled to the brim with crowds. Junkertown's citizens, of all shapes, sizes, and levels of hygiene, attending with little protective barriers. Despite that, they roared and cheered as they were right up against the show they came to see, for what passed as entertainment in this rusted shell of a town – gladiatorial combat. However, the match they were witnessing today was not really something the ancient Romans would have the pleasure of experiencing. Where the crowd clapped and hollered as they watched two large, bipedal walking machines duke it out in the middle of the arena.

One machine had a buzzsaw on one arm and three sharp, pointy claws on the other, while his opponent was equipped with nozzles on either arm that spewed fire from a tank on its back. The crowd went wild every time one machine landed a blow on their opponent, or when a pilot narrowly dodges a fatal strike. Spurts of fire or blade fragments nearly hitting the audience watching but only adding more excitement to the show. An announcer's voice over the intercom telegraphing everything that happened in this wild, wild match.

The best seats in the house obviously belonged to the Queen, as she and her guest occupied the "VIP" booth that was situated high above the  _Scrapyard_. Nathan could see everything from where they were as he leaned against the railing that separated him from the glass. He was no stranger to fighting arenas and has even betted or participated in matches, but he's never really watched two large mechs blowing shards of metal off each other. His interest in this novelty was a bit feigned, sadly, since he was supposed to leave this place thirty minutes ago and watch it blow up five minutes later. He doesn't even know where Fawkes and Rutledge are, having not heard from them since.

Laughter and loud music made him look back to a corner of the VIP room, seeing some of the Queen's posse lounging around on furniture with beers and a jukebox. It sounded like it was blaring rock, but moodier, with more distorted electric guitars and the singers sounding like whiny punks. At least it wasn't completely electronic noise.

His escape planning was interrupted as a fiery-red mohawk came into view and the Queen of Junkertown took a spot next to him, leaning against the railing to look down at the fight, too. Her presence more than unwelcome.

"I hope my champion is enjoying the show…?" the Queen asked, casting a smirk to the side.

"Very much so, your Majesty," Brin lied as he kissed her ass. "You Junkers sure have some interesting forms of entertainment…"

"And I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world!" she the proudly boasted. "You really had good timing, coming to my court, today. This match has been planned weeks in advance. Can't think of a better way to celebrate becoming richer!"

The Head Junker grinned as she looked back down at the mech fight happening below them, the fighters both looking worse than when they started but still chugging on. The Courier stared at her, his face still hidden under his Ranger helm until he slowly looked back at the fight in his honor. Watching more sparks and flame fly across the rusted corridor, the crowd loving all of it.

"Actually, I can think of a better way to celebrate a day like this. Something more substantial than watching some old boomers fight to help take the edge off," the Queen then says, keeping her eyes fixed on the arena.

The man wrinkled his forehead, rotating his helmeted head to look at the Queen, but her eyes are still affixed on the mech brawl. He looked back at the fighting, as well, but his thoughts occupied with something else besides the sport. Not entertaining the thought of responding to her.

"Oi, Courier!" Brin suddenly heard Junkrat loudly whisper into the radio of his ear, almost making him jerk his head. "Roadie and I are trying to find the boom trolley, so we can reignite the fuse and blow this place to hell. Might take a while, but until then, make sure the Queen doesn't leave her castle. Just get ready to move it when we call back unless you want to go down with the 'countess'. Haha! Junkrat, out!"

His helmet went quiet, and he shifted his eyes back to the Queen who still looked over the Scrapyard, leaning next to him on the rail. Unaware of the little voice that was speaking in his head. For a second, he thought about just pulling out his P320 and shooting her right there, making their job much less complicated. He would, consequently, lose the element of surprise and be forced to fight between floors of her cronies. Then, deal with the entire town as he tried to make a speedy getaway. If he had his rifles and some of his grenades that could've been possible, but with just a pistol and knife…

"Tell me, champion, when you killed the Rat and the Hog, how did you do it?" the Queen unexpectedly asked, turning to look at the helmeted.

"Shot 'em, how else?" Brin quickly answered, not taking his eyes off the fight. "Maybe an odd grenade or two."

"Really? That's it? You didn't make them suffer? Didn't shove a knife into their guts or prolong their wasteful lives to make sure they could still feel something? That's a bit disappointing to hear."

Nathan's head didn't move but his eyes shifted to the side, casting another gaze at the Junker next to him.

"I like to be efficient, ma'am," he responded, sounding unfazed. "Get things done quick. Toying with prey ain't a good business practice to have. Mostly."

"Surely, there could've been something else for you gain you besides the money?" the Queen asked, turning her head to look at him. "Something else about this job that drives you to do the things you do. Couldn't that be a possibility?"

"…I suppose."

Their fucked conversation went silent after that moment, Nathan thankful that it ended even if it was just temporary. Instantly going back to devising an escape plan from this dumpster castle after he's done mooching off with this discount ruler. The Junker Queen none the wiser as she boringly went back to watching the match.

Brin's thoughts are interrupted as he notices the noise inside the VIP room shift and looks over his shoulder to see the Queen's entourage making their way to the door. Everyone, even the bouncers, leaving for some reason. Leaving the Courier, the Queen, and the jukebox all alone in the viewing room. He looked at the Junker Queen, seeing she paid no mind to what just happened, resting her head on her hand as she absentmindedly stared at the arena.

"Where are they going?" he innocuously asked.

"Giving us some room," the Queen answered, turning her head to look at him.

"There's plenty of space here…"

"Let me rephrase what I said: They're giving us some  _privacy_."

Nathan just pivoted his helmeted head to look at her, unamused on both his faces.

" _Why?_ " the Courier questioned.

"Stay here for a little longer, my champion, and you might find out," the Queen said, standing up from the railing and slowly walking over to the tall man. Her left-hand brushing against the railing with every step. Stopping right up against his side and placing her hands delicately upon his shoulder. Dragging her fingers across the cloth.

The Ranger helmet always hid his expression well, but it was a good thing she didn't notice his right hand balled into a very tight fist. Reminding himself he had to stall the Queen for a while, to make sure Junkrat's bomb would get her, but this may have been not what he had in mind. Sure as hell wasn't what "her champion" had in mind, either.

"Do you ever take that mask off, mate?" the woman coyly asked.

"No," the Courier merely answered, narrowing his unseen eyes.

"Really? Someone as hardworking and productive as you could certainly use a breather, every now-and-then, no? It wouldn't kill you to get more comfortable, would it? You're probably burning up under there. Got plenty of drinks to amend that."

Suddenly, a wrestling bell rung and the fighting in the Scrapyard had stopped. Both mech pilot fighters still standing, albeit, covered in oil and bruises. The one with flamethrowers covered in scratches and missing chunks of armor, the other covered in ash and soot.

"Aaaand it looks like a draw, ladies and gentlemen, with both contestants still standing!" the announcer for the fight declared over the loud cheering. "But, as you all know, we can't be having any of that in the Scrapyard. No draws, only winners and losers! You know what this means?"

"Two-Up! Two-Up! Two-Up!" the crowd began to cheer, echoing throughout the rusted dome and Nathan feeling the vibrations from where he was. Seeing many of the crowds' faces looking up at their VIP room. The two mechs pilots doing so, as well.

Wondering what "two-up" was supposed to be, the Waster heard the Queen laugh and turned to her. Reaching to her backside, she pulled out a shiny knife and held the blade in the air, then reaching into her pockets and pulling out two of the same coin. She kept grinning as she placed both the coins on a flat-side of the blade, holding them there.

"Perks of being the Queen," she states, flicking her wrist, and tossing the coins up into the air.

They twirled midair and clattered against the glass of the viewing box, settling a bit after a few more bounces. Looking down, they see the coins had landed to reveal tails on both. Nathan wondered what that was supposed to mean, while the Queen grinned as she walked to a microphone in the middle of the railing and spoke into it.

"Tails!"

The crowd went wild after she said that, and the two mech pilots began moving away from each other. Nathan was just confused the entire time until he saw more movement happen in the middle of the Scrapyard, where the street curved around the turbine. Almost gasping aloud as he saw a large group of Omnics being led out of a doorway while escorted by armed guards. They all had chains around their arms and legs, looked emaciated even for machines, with dents, scratches, and rust among their metal hulls, and twitched their round metallic heads around as if lost. One Omnic didn't even have a right arm.

"Looks like we've got a  _scrap-off_ , then!" the announcer declared, sounding equally excited. "A fan-favorite; Whoever scraps the most bots in the least amount of time wins! Are the contestants ready?"

Both the mechs took aggressive stances, propping their arms and weapons up to get ready. The crowd becoming louder as they were going to be audience to another gladiatorial spectacle. The Omnics only cowering in fear as they were let off their chains and forced to become targets.

Nathan Brin could only stand there and watch as the two mechs charged towards the group of Omnics, who didn't have any time to run or defend themselves before they were then torn to pieces. With every smash, rip, and tear the larger machines did, he watched as the Omnics were hopelessly dismembered and outright murdered before the crowd of cheering Junkers. Watching as some try to scramble away but end up being snatched in large mechanical claws or crushed under large feet. Even the flamethrower mech could hurt, dousing them with petrol first before setting their hulls aflame. Their movements becoming much slower and sluggish as their bodies burn, just not flailing around in pain and terror like humans would.

They could scream like humans, though. The out-of-towner never expecting to hear such sounds from machines.

He continued watching the remaining Omnics get slaughtered in seconds, body parts and fluid flying everywhere. The crowd of Junkers just eating it up.

"Hope you don't mind the gratuitous violence," the Queen said as she sauntered up to him, looking down at the show. "It's what passes for entertainment around here, but you probably knew that if you were mad enough to come here."

He didn't say anything. He didn't want to say anything. The Courier only just balled his fists up and silently snarled underneath his mask. Trying so hard to restrain himself and keep to the mission. Wait for Fawkes to come back on the comms and tell him it was time to leave before this place got demolished.

"Of course, there are other forms of entertainment around here," the Queen of Junkertown stated, delicately putting her hand on Nathan's ass.

The Queen barely had time to react when the man in black armor spun around and punched her in the face. Strong enough to knock her off her feet and to the ground. She winced for a second on the ground, feeling warm blood dripping from her mouth. Spitting out a tooth before looking back at her guest of honor with newfound fury in her eyes.

"I'm leaving," the guest of honor stated, towering over her as lay on the floor. "You can have the gold, the money, and whatever the fuck this 'town' is supposed to be, but I ain't fucking you! I only brought the loot here to clear any bad blood and that's it! Eat someone else's dick, your  _Majesty_ , and have a good day!"

He was about to stomp off to leave the Queen to wallow in her blood and ill-gained riches but was bubbling with too much anger to notice her foot swiping him from below. Falling to his back on the floor, he then felt her get on top of him and straddle his waist, producing a knife and holding it against his throat.

"You like being rough, aye?" the Queen questioned, somehow grinning madly as she hovered over his face, her lips stained with blood. "I can be rough, too. I know you'd enjoy it. You'd  _love_ it! Don't think I can't properly reward you for what you've done for me."

"We just met, you crazy bitch!" the Courier yelled, grabbing her knife hand and punching her in the face.

Getting her off him and rolling to the floor next to him, the guest of honor then stood up, grabbed her by the collar and belt. He heaved and threw her against the thick glass window, making her bounce off and fall to the floor. The glass was still intact, but the Courier hopped over the railing and pulled out his sidearm to end her prematurely. Showing little regard for Junkrat's plan now. However, the Queen swiftly threw out another knife and struck him in the hand, knocking his gun away and catching him off-guard. It clattered to the floor, and he bent down to pick it up when the glass beneath and next to him shattered as a mech's clawed hand burst through and grabbed him. Pulling him out to the Scrapyard.

"Oh, what's this?" the announcer said, sounding surprised. "It looks like we have a third contestant in the match; the Queen's very own 'guest of honor'! He's got no mech, though, so his stint might be a tad short-lived."

The claws wrapped around his torso, nearly crushing him, feeling the air getting squeezed out. He immediately struggled and tried to pry the claws off with his arms, stopped and looked up when he heard that loud buzzsaw hand wind up. The blade hovering mere feet to him. Still holding onto to his sidearm, he quickly pointed the muzzle at the cockpit and fired at him. The mech pilot lost his grin and quickly retracted the buzzsaw to shield himself from the rounds. With that opportunity, Nathan wriggled in the claws and could prop both his leg against the one claw around his torso. Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed his legs forward and felt his thighs and abdomen burn for a few split seconds until the claw snapped back. Subsequently, falling to the floor.

"But he's broken free!" the announcer telegraphed, sounding as surprised as the crowd. "Remarkable, a precedent being set in this match! A lone fighter taking on two mechs!"

Quickly regaining semblance, he twirled around and aimed the muzzle of his pistol up to the viewing box. Spotting his target and firing up shots at her, only to have the rounds stopped against the glass and leave white specks with no penetration. The Queen perked an eyebrow and stared down at him, before clicking her microphone on.

"Kelvin? Bludger? Bring him to me alive. Everyone else? Enjoy the show."

About to orient himself to try a clearer shot, he narrowly avoided the slam of a fist the size of a small boulder. It belonged to the other mech, whose pilot wasted no town jutting out his other arm and spitting flame out of the nozzle.

"Kelvin, I said alive! Not crispy!"

The entire room was seemingly engulfed in flame, the audience unsure what happened beneath the blaze. After a few more seconds of burning everything right in front of him, the pilot retracted his flamethrower and stopped firing. The smoke and flame clearing in front of him to show the scorched metal floor… And the trail of smoke simmering from the coat of a man running down the road before jumping into a pit.

Taking cover in the pit, Nathan scrambled to get his duster off. Throwing it against the ground, the walls, and stomping on it to put the fire out. It did eventually die, but his coat was now more ruined than earlier. Pieces of the flaps completely singed off and patches in the cloth along the back, shoulders, and arm. Dark brown coloring turned into a charred black. He didn't have time to mourn as he suddenly heard an electrical spark, looking up to see a single, metallic arm stretching out from a pile of scrap metal. Consisting of nothing but dismembered Omnic parts.

"Help…" a sparking Omnic head said to him, its arms still twitching and reaching out to the air.

The Waster sat there and looked at the dismembered machine, looking around the pit to see other piles of dismembered Omnics. Thrown in here like a mass grave, like pieces of unwanted garbage. Unable to take his eyes off any of it. Having seen similar sights, before.

"Courier, it's Junkrat!" he heard on his radio, the voice more bubbly and exuberant than he was. "Great news, Roadie and I were able to light the fuse and even grabbed some of the gold with us! Bad news, there wasn't a whole lot of time left on the fuse when we lit it. So, you may want to make a speedy getaway right about now, if possible. See you 'till then!"

When his transmission cut off, he could hear the stomping footfalls shake the ground harder with each step. Hearing the piloted machines coming from both sides of the pit.

Brin put his burned coat back on and took cover by the stairwell he ran down. He took out his sidearm and checked ammo, seeing he had enough to make do. At least, against these golems.

" _Kelvin 506_  is approaching from the left,  _Bludger_  approaching from the right. Surrounding our third contestant on both sides. Cornering him!"

'From the left, huh?'

Nathan pressed his back against the wall, listening to the footsteps get closer. Holding his sidearm firmly against his chest as he waited. Attentive to what he saw and heard. On both sides of the pit, he heard the footfalls from both mechs stop and everything becoming relatively quieter. The slight thrumming of motors closer than the cheering crowds.

Nathan snapped his head to the right as a spinning buzz-saw went down into the pit and jutted towards him, narrowly evading the saw as it cuts into the wall. He jumps up the steps to see Kelvin 506 already priming his flamethrower and spitting a jet of fire a second later. His entire world becoming a bright orange as he pressed on and kept running forward. Kelvin fired his flamethrower but stopping a bit earlier to look down to see the man had apparently disappeared in the blaze again. He scowled with his one eye, looking around and stomping his big feet to see where he had gone.

"Oh, fuck! Mate, he's on your back!" Bludger called out to him, trying to get over to the other side.

Kelvin 506 looked at the fellow pilot for a moment before the tall black armor climbed over his shoulders and stopped right on his cockpit, mere feet from each other. The pilot could only scream and throw up his hands as the Courier brought his pistol up and unloaded half a magazine into him. The crowd's cheering morphing into shock as the gunshots went off. Even the Queen was surprised, running to the railing, and grabbing it as she watches his cockpit get painted red before his mech fell on its back. Nathan rolled to the ground, relatively unscathed, then running away as he brought his knife out and sliced the flamethrower's hose.

"You bastard! Come back here!" Bludger screamed, finally getting to the other side and about to give chase.

Unfortunately for him, he stopped as he heard rushing liquid beneath him and the smell of petrol hitting his nose. Glancing down to see the fuel spilling out of his opponents defunct mech. Then, a split-second later, a gunshot going off and sparking against the fuel. Bludger barely having time to brace himself as he was enveloped in a wall of fire, followed by an explosion from the tank on Kelvin's corpse.

The crowd further lost its bloodlust and gave another collective gasp of shock as they watched the explosion, those close to it taking cover while Bludger's battle mech collapses to the floor and becomes unresponsive. The Queen's features were graced with another look of surprise. Not expecting the out-of-towner to kill two seasoned Scrapyard gladiators – in mechs. Her stadium erupted with booing on all sides, directed towards the tall man in black armor standing in front of the two slain mechs.

The Courier obviously heard it, turning around to see all the angry and disgusted Junkers yelling at him and displaying rude gestures from the stands. Some of the guards coming out and pointing their weapons at him. More than unfazed by their jeers.

"Oh, fuck off…" he muttered.

"You have nowhere to run!" the Queen shouted over the intercom. "Someone seize that man, now-!"

A second, larger and more powerful explosion interrupted her. The crowds and the Queen watching as the stage where her throne was burst forth with fire and debris spewing out.

Nathan almost fell to his feet, caught by surprise by the explosion, too. Not that he didn't expect it to happen, but because that tremor he felt was much more powerful than what he even saw on the payload. Now questioning if those bundles of dynamite Junkrat had rigged were actual dynamite.

A series of explosions brought him back to reality, each blast somehow stronger and louder with each subsequent detonation. Now, people began to panic and rush for the exits. The "guest of honor" looking over the dead mechs to see the entrance he came through and quickly hauling ass towards that direction.

Next, Brin could feel and hear the explosions, the ground quaking beneath his feet and the sounds of the shantytown's castle blowing up from the inside. Even with the overload of his senses, he made a dash through the doorway and out onto the street, not looking back as the heat from the explosion crept up his spine. Resident Junkers all around him panicking and running away as well.

After dashing across the entire town faster than the truck did, it wasn't long until he went through the front gate and kept running well out onto the dirt. Brin finally stopped and turned around to look at the destruction caused by Junkrat's boom-trolley. The dome structure in the middle of town billowing smoke from holes in its shell that weren't there prior to detonation. Parts of its metal structure caving in on itself. A few more tremors went off, aftershocks from the initial explosion.

Nathan, panting heavily, took off his helmet to take in the fresh air for himself and feel his sweaty forehead get cold. He groaned and took a seat on the ground, resting an arm on his knee. Gulping in more air as he stared at the dirt. Not even bothered by the further aftershocks and the running or screaming Junkers.

As he caught his breath, an approaching clicking accompanied by a high-pitched, barely suppressed chortling came up behind him. Junkrat and Roadhog, still dressed as farmer's in overalls, stood behind him as they looked up at the smoke rising from the center of Junkertown.

"Hahahahaha! We've done it, mates!" Junkrat exclaimed, pumping a bloody metal arm into the air. "The Queen is gone! Finally! No more having someone to boss us around, anymore."

He took a break from speaking to burst into more laughter. Literally stamping his feet against the ground as he did.

"Now we can roam around these parts as free as we please! Or, when we decided to return home for a short escapade from all our 'business trips'. And we couldn't have done it without you, mate!"

Nathan turned his head slightly to peer behind his shoulder for a moment, before looking back to the ground.

"I mean… We  _could've_ done it the first time around with the boom trolley, but life really likes to screw you in the arse when it comes to executing masterplans. Sooooooo, maybe partial credit? I don't know. Roadie, what do you reckon?"

"…  _Hmph_ ," Rutledge only scoffed, his mask stained with kangaroo bits.

"… Wait… 'Payment'…?"

"Yeah, payment," Brin said, finally standing up to his full height and turning to address Fawkes. "I've done my part of the deal. Now, it's time for you to fulfill yours."

Jamison narrowed his eyes at Nathan, who stared back with a neutral expression as the sounds of a crumbling castle echoed behind him.

"Oh, right!" Junkrat eyes lit up with realization, palming his face, and smiling. "Your payment for a hard day's work! No, mate, I didn't forget. I'm a proper, legitimate businessman…! Eh, what did you want, though?"


	44. Road Rage

Roadhog's chopper cruised along the sandy road they took yesterday, the one that the Queen's scrapping convoys used to use.

As before, Junkrat was in the sidecar while the Courier had to share the rickety wagon with Jerry. Trying to brace himself every time the vehicle would bounce from bumps or potholes. Thankfully, the roads were quiet under the sun without another soul to be seen for hours at a time. Unlike last night, he could see the entirety of the Outback from where he was sitting. Still looked limitless even at high speeds. Stuff on the horizon just coasting along slightly faster.

However, sometime after they crossed a stretch of road littered with familiar looking wrecks and corpses, the scenery around the already desolate Outback became less welcoming. The bright, lively sky around them gradually changed to a darker, grayer overcast, as if they had just crossed into a colder climate. The ground around them was populated with fewer shrubs and more of what appeared to be pieces of shrapnel and jagged metal stuck into the sands. All of them looking like they had been thrown in there. There were other more complex structures of metal scattered across the dirt, some wrecked machines and objects buried into them. The Wastelander looked to see the road surrounded by all sorts of scrap junk. He turned around in his seat to see the large, metal carcass of the Australian Omnium miles away from them on the cloudy horizon. Looking bigger than the rock Junkertown sat on did at this distance.

Then, barely hearing it under the belching motorcycle, the Geiger counter on his Pip-Boy began ticking and its little needle twitching. Not too erratically and not veering close to the red zones. Occasionally minutes where it didn't go off, but it grabbed his attention just the same. He swiftly reaches to his pack and grabs a little brown bottle, twists the cap off, and pops a little pill into his mouth. The Waster wasn't sure if radiation went by a different set of rules here, but he also didn't want to grow a third nut.

After twenty or so more minutes on the road, the group had finally reached the outer walls of the Omnium remains. The humans and goat were easily dwarfed by the spires and structures that still stood upright. The road and ground they were standing on weren't even Outback soil but constructed with metal and concrete like the Omnium. There was still a lot of sand that had blown in, however, without any machines to keep it clean.

Unlike the rest of the Outback where he could hear the occasional bird or insect chirp, he could only hear the wind howl through the metal bones, which occasionally creaked and groaned under their own stress. His Geiger counter still ticked weakly at times, so he was mindful of where he stepped.

"Well, here we are," Jamison astutely observed, standing up tall and looking up at the large spire. "Place ain't much to look at, but you'll be destined to find something valuable in this scrap heap."

"What about what I need?" Nathan questioned.

"A working fusion core, right? I'll be honest, mate, that's a rather tall order to have on a place picked by buzzards as much as this one. Might take a good bit of digging around to find it."

"I don't mind spelunking for groceries."

The seasoned Wastelander put his helmet back on and walked towards the gaping maw that was presented to him. However, he only got a few steps in until Junkrat jumped in front and held a palm out to his face.

"Now just hold on a sec!" Fawkes exclaimed, before holding a finger out. "I ain't just gonna let an out-of-towner walk in there and risk life and limbs just to get something that we're not even sure is there! How 'bout you let me do it? I know this place like the back of my prosthetic hand, and you've already worked hard enough. This is  _our_  part of the deal, remember? If you're still unsure, I'll leave Roadhog out here for insurance."

Brin narrowed his eyes at him under his helmet after he proposed that idea, like always. He sure as hell didn't trust this wastrel with something as delicate as a nuclear power source, but he was right about him crossing into unknown territory. He's done it, many times before, but it does get tiring. And it'd probably be faster if he let the local be the errand boy, for once.

"You have an hour," he specified, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you're not back by then, I'm going in and coming out with or without you."

"Make it half and you've got a deal," Junkrat wagered, giving a toothy grin before spinning around and running off into the maw of the dead Omnium.

After they lost sight of his burning hair and the sound of his peg leg, Nathan turned around and walked back across the road. Passing by Roadhog, the pig-mask's gaze following him.

"How the hell did you end up with him?" Brin derided.

Roadhog scoffed, but not close to being offended. He stomped away and left Nathan by himself, the Californian not even bothering to look back and check out what he was doing.

After a while, Nathan spotted a support beam for one of the defunct rail systems that branched out from the Omnium. Some sand had blown all over it and formed a small hill around the beam. He walked over to the small dune and climbed up to the top. Unslinging his backpack, he plopped down on top of it and rested against the metal support beam. Looking out to the horizon again and seeing nothing in this irradiated, corrugated dump. Keeping an eye on his Geiger counter and hoping the wind didn't blow any radioactive sand into his eyes.

Places like these always opened a window into what the world would look like if civilization just upped and vanished. Not even survivors around to try and carve out something from the remains. Husks of metal and stone left to deal with encroaching nature. Wind always howling, both here and back home.

Thinking about the wind, the Courier takes off his duster and holds it in front of himself to see the damage.

From the waist down, it was ripped and tattered like mincemeat. A few scraps of cloth hanging literally by a thread. It looked as if it would completely fall apart if the breeze got a little stronger. The burn-patches sustained earlier across his arms and shoulders only added more to the decrepit state of the Waster's coat. The damage may have once added to the aesthetic of one's Wasteland apparel, but there was no sense wearing a duster if it couldn't protect against dust.

Brin let out a quiet but disheartened sigh, sulking his head slightly as he still held onto the piece of clothing that's served him well for many years. A uniform piece that served many others for years, with distinction. Wasn't something someone could just simply replace.

"… _Lost…_ "

He looked up from his duster to see more sand being blown away by the wind. Gazing up to see mangled metal brush up against the wind. Lifting one arm to see the cloth of his sleeve rattle and shake from the wind. Looking around to see there was nothing except the wind.

The Courier reached for his belt to bring out his Vault 13 Canteen, expertly getting the cap off and lifting his helmet partway, taking hearty gulps of the alcohol inside. Some of it spilling out and dripping down his chin until he finishes and drains it dry. His throat feeling like fire in the desert.

"Sorry, Mom," he mused to himself, before scoffing and smirking.

The Courier must've gotten lost staring at sand rolling between his legs, because the wind was disturbed by a grating, piercing yelling from behind. Back at the Omnium.

"I'm baaaaaaaacckk!"

Nathan glanced at his Pip-Boy's clock, noticing that the explosive-obsessed freak had arrived earlier than expected. He grabbed his ripped-up duster and stuffed it into his pack, before slinging it over his shoulder.

Walking back to where Mako had parked the chopper, Nathan could see Jamison was indeed back and carried something with him. It was a long, cylindrical device that had a black metal shell reinforced with silver-colored casings. It looked completely encased, its contents hidden inside except for a little slit in the middle that glowed a light turquoise. Was big for a fusion core, where he was from.

"Wasn't much to it, just got in and got out," Junkrat prided himself as he handed the energy source to Nathan.

"Thanks," Nathan said, taking the long capsule into his arm and feeling it had some heft to it.

"Uh-uh, not so fast, cobber. 'Cause we're offering a special two-for-one sale!"

Suddenly, the wiry Junker produced a second fusion core from nowhere and dropped it into Nathan's hands. He scrambled to catch the second fusion core, surprised and not wanting it to bang against the floor right next to them. After he narrowly catches the power source, he looked up at Jamison in anger.

"I only needed one!" the Overwatch agent exclaimed, looking at the second fusion core like it was a piece of bird shit that hit his arm.

"Yeah, that's what you said, but what if you end up needing two?" Jamison posed, shrugging his shoulders in thought. "You could use it as a back-up. Use the heat for air conditioning. Ooh, maybe warm up a pool and get it all nice and steamy like a hot tub!"

Nathan's eyes switched between Jamison and the fusion core, still dumbstruck. However, he rolled his eyes and groaned after standing there for a few moments before walking off, still holding the fusion core he didn't ask for. Junkrat and Roadhog exchanged glances with each other before the former just shrugged.

Putting some space between himself and them, Nathan dropped his pack, his rifle holster, and the two fusion cores on the ground to do a quick inventory check. After doing so, he lifted a flap and tried to fit in the large fusion cores into what little space there was in his pack. Placing the radioactive cores precariously next to some grenades and ammunition. It didn't fit entirely into his backpack, around half of the cylinders sticking out and straight into the air like antennas. Besides that, everything else was in working order and he looked ready for the return trip back home. Mission accomplished.

Despite this, he looked to his rifles and sees them covered in sand but still operational. His Brush Gun not looking too bad with a coat of sand over it. He silently stared at his game rifle for a few moments, before turning to the two Junkers and seeing them preoccupied with their chopper. Their backs turned to him for that moment and none the wiser.

Without hesitation, Nathan reached for his Brush Gun and shouldered the stock, cranking the lever, and hearing a large round go in. He stood up, about to take aim with his big game rifle, but was one millisecond away from squeezing the trigger as he saw something glint in his peripheral vision. Turning his head to the Outback.

The sun reflected off multiple metallic objects that were coming over the horizon and created a cloud of sand trailing behind them. They were far away, but continuously growing larger and larger with each passing second. Their shapes becoming clearer among the mirage. He pivoted to the horizon and used the rifle's scope to get a clearer picture of the approaching figures. It wasn't long when Roadhog and Junkrat ran up beside him after they heard his rifle make noise.

Nathan saw a convoy of automobiles heading straight for the Omnium. They weren't one of the scrapping convoys, as there were simply too many vehicles in the front alone. Not just a few moderate vehicles forming a defense around one central target; Much more variation in their shapes, sizes, and the number of spikes across their hoods. As they got closer, he could see there were crews of people on all the vehicles, a small army getting ready with an assortment of jury-rigged weapons and devices on their jury-rigged vehicles. Nathan was at awe that these rust buckets could even work, but his thoughts were swept to the side when he hovered his crosshairs to the middle of the convoy, spotting a car whose hull reminded him of old Chryslus model – with a little less rust. However, it was on a set of giant wheels that were larger than the car body itself, seemingly the only vehicle with wheels in the entire fleet. The hood had the symbol of the banner from earlier, and there were spikes along its sides with a collection of shiny mufflers stemming like wings. Why this vehicle stood out from the others was easily answered as he veered his scope to the windshield, spotting a red mohawk through the glass.

Without hesitation, he started firing at the windshield, sending rounds quickly down range. At this distance and with moving targets, it was a gamble, but a round does impact the windshield, but it was still intact. Glass only getting a scratch at best. He quickly lost sight of his target as she veered to the side and one of her escort vehicles drove in front to provide cover. Empty, he ejected the last cartridge before retrieving more rounds to quickly feed into it.

"Aye…" Junkrat said, his face devoid of any humor in this moment. "We really ticked off the big boss this time, didn't we?"

"YOU THINK?!" the Courier snarled, loading his rifle and slamming the bolt forward.

Unfortunately, the convoy had gotten close enough where some of them started firing back, machine guns and small arms fire hitting the dune they were standing on. Junkrat jumped to cover, Roadhog ducked his head a little, and the Courier fired back at the muzzles flashes.

The convoy was closing in fast but made it somewhat easier for the Waster to pick off some of their numbers more effectively. Even if his hits were a drop in the bucket of the entire force.

Shooting the chest cavity of a motorcycle rider, he watches him tumble to the ground and quickly get overtaken by the other vehicles in the convoy. As that happens, however, he veers his sight upwards to be greeted by the front of a large, boxy vehicle on tracks. It's turret directly pointing at him.

He only saw the muzzle flare up for a split-second before a big ball of light flew towards them. It flew right into the dune and cut through the sand, detonating against the wall of the Omnium behind them. Nathan was knocked off his feet by the concussive force alone, his backpack flying and spilling everything onto the ground. The dune collapsing on itself.

"Really, she brought out the  _Abrams?!_  Now that just bloody overkill!" Junkrat exclaimed, frowning that a tank was now hot on their trail. "Roadie, grab our guest and let's get outta here! We'd still be able to lose her with these dunes."

Roadhog only nodded once, running over to a lump lying in the sand covered in a torn duster, scooping him up into his arm. Running back to his chopper, he threw him into the wagon and hopped onto the driver's seat. With a twist of a key and a twist of the throttle, the bike then rocketed off. Speeding away from the Omnium with a trail of dust.

When the drumming of his motorcycle was already a distant moan and the approach of the convoy became louder, only then did a dazed and dented helmet try to get up. Covered in a blanket of sand from the bank that was blown apart.

Nathan got to his knees, feeling as if a Super Sledge jostled his insides. Wallowing a bit longer in his disoriented state, he saw his pack and its contents spilled onto the floor. He scrambled over to them, quickly scooping everything into his arms and throwing it inside with little care for organization. He then spotted the two fusion cores a few feet away from him, lying next to each other without so much as a scratch. Quickly grabbing and stuffing them into his pack, before standing up and seeing he was alone. Junkrat and Roadhog nowhere to be seen.

A truck horn went off, seeing the convoy of cars getting dangerously close to the Omnium. Nathan staggered forward and picked up his sand-drenched Brush Gun. As he staggered back up, he looked up at the armada of Junkers gaining towards him. Looking down at the rifle in his hands to see he was more than outgunned for this fight. However, the wind still howled where he was, and he looked behind to see the open wound of the Omnium. More than wide enough to fit a man in. Nathan took one more glance at the Queen and her forces before dashing inside to the Omnium's maw. The Courier disappearing into the ruin's bowels.

Not even a minute after that, the first of the War Party reached the walls of the broken Omnium, stopping at the entrance, first. They waited until the car with large wheels got to the front, and their Queen climbed to the top of her hood. Everyone staring up at her. She didn't look bad for someone who survived an attempted assassination through explosion. Only a sheen of soot over her face at worst.

"Alright my fellow dregs, listen up!" the Queen demanded, heaving a large-bladed battle-ax over her shoulder. "I want you to find that seppo bastard and bring him to me!  _Alive_! It doesn't matter if his intestines are spilling out of his gut, I still have unfinished business with him… So, I want half of you to circle around this scrapheap and cover all the exits, and the other half to track down him down. Now, move it!"

Her gang of wastrels and thugs followed what she said with little hesitation, half of their vehicles driving off to circle the remains of the Omnium like scavengers and the other half heading inside, with weapons and vehicles that could fit. The Queen stood tall on her hood, watching her small army divert their efforts into finding this one man. She was a tad out of breath from barking those orders, from chasing a man across the entire Outback, and from surviving a literal explosion that nearly collapsed her castle, but the Queen of Junkertown wouldn't have it any other way.

No job too big, no score too small.

* * *

The wind rushed into their faces as they sped along the cracked road leading away from the Australian Omnium, and leading them to "friendlier" weather. Junkrat periodically looked over his shoulder to see if they were being tailed by anyone but saw nothing but a mirage behind them. After doing it for the one-hundredth time just to be sure, the coast finally looked clear.

"Phew, looks like we lost her," Junkrat noted, wiping some sweat from his ashy forehead. "I'll admit, she's bloody tough! Now we'll have to go back to the drawing board, again. Plan out our next course of action to take her out of the picture. We'd probably be a bit more successful next time if we used a little less…  _Theatrics_."

Roadhog turned his head slightly to the sidecar but keeping his eyes on the road.

"But it was worth it just to blow her dome-home to bits. Ha! Probably helped raise the resale value for everyone's units in that town with that eyesore gone. Tell me, Mailman, what was her face like when you betrayed her in her most vulnerable time?"

He turned around to face what he assumed would be Nathan but frowned as he saw the lump of the duster just shamble on the cart-floor.

"Oi, you still a bit groggy or…?" Junkrat asked, reaching over and pulling the torn duster off to reveal that it was Jerry the Goat, not Nathan.

"Roadie! You grabbed the wrong bastard!" he exclaimed, appearing shocked and confused.

Roadhog turned his head to look behind and see the wagon was occupied with just a goat and no human. When a tank started firing upon them and made their guest disappear in a cloud of sand, he must've made the mistake of just grabbing a lump covered in a duster without checking underneath in his haste. Worse fuck-ups have happened, especially regarding these two. Meanwhile, Junkrat had his mouth agape, looking horrified and wondering how it got to this point. That was for a moment, however, as he then quickly dropped his surprised façade and shrugged. Turning around and reclining into his sidecar with the wind in his air.

"Shame," Junkrat simple said, not worried in the slightest now. "Well, he fulfilled his part of the bargain and we fulfilled ours. Nothing else we can do now, unfortunately. Besides, I'm sure he'll be right."

Abruptly, the chopper then came to a screeching halt as Roadhog clamped on the brakes and the momentum flung Junkrat ten meters across the road. Bouncing like a ball, skidding to a halt on his face, and flopping down like a fish. Jerry was thrown, too, landing face first into Junkrat's sidecar.

Groaning and dazed, Junkrat sat up from the road with pebbles stuck to his face. His skin red but not bleeding. Shaking the crud off, he twists around to confront his partner with a very irritated expression. His mask only stared back.

"Oi, the hell's your problem, you fat bastard?" Junkrat questioned, rubbing his stinging cheeks. "Do you want me to lower your 38% cut of my treasure?!"

Roadhog only snorted, making Junkrat look at him but with a confused demeanor.

"Wait, what? Why?"

Rutledge looked over his shoulder, back to the way of the Omnium, before looking back at him.

"Obligation? What 'obligation?" Fawkes asked, trying to piece together what his friend was conveying. "We did our part, he did his! Like, sure, it's unfortunate that he has  _that_  mess to worry about, but it comes with the territory. Besides, it's not my fault that the Queen is after his blood. Kinda serves him right for kissing up to her the way he did. What more is to fulfill?"

This time, his colleague just stared at him and maintained that gaze without any other expression he could muster up beneath that mask. Jamison stared back at him, his demeanor slowly shifting as the gravity of the situation was now bringing him back to Earth and fully realize what they were doing.

At least, that's what the harebrained, explosive-obsessed maniac thought.

"I've seen that face before…" Junkrat said, scowling, and twitching his face in thought. "Alright, alright, alright! Fine! We'll do things your way if you're really  _scared_  of being on that man's bad side… Uhm, how do you want to do things, though?"

Mako "Roadhog" Rutledge only responded by reaching to his pants and bringing up his large hook, the chains rattling as they shook. Out of all the possible responses he could've gotten, that was probably the most poignant.

"Now, you're speaking my language, mate!" Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes could only agree.

Next, they heard a goat bray and looked to see Jerry finally getting his head out of Junkrat's seat. Chewing on some blueprints he stored there.

"We should probably drop Jaz off somewhere, first."

* * *

Nathan's boots clanked against a hard metal floor as he rounded corner after corner of this labyrinthian factory. Constantly having to check his Pip-Boy for direction to what seemed like another room, another exit. Or, at least a place farther away from the Junkers to give himself some space.

The longer he ran, the deeper he went into this Omnium. Tall hallways of metal constantly around him. Empty spaces and entire rooms that have been stripped clean from years of scavenging. Or, running through entire rooms filled to the brim with mechanical equipment and assembly lines that have remained dormant for who knows how long. Some rooms and sections downright inaccessible unless he was a machine. Still, the Omnium was twisted and broken enough that the human was able to find some kind of passage to squeeze through, even if it was off the beaten path. Unfortunately, he didn't know this place nearly as well as the people chasing him, occasionally hearing their voices or the revs of their engine get close.

Turning another corner, he crossed into a long hallway with doors on the sides but an opening at the end. He made a dash towards that end, quickly closing half the distance, but that was when two Junkers appeared in the doorway.

"He's there! Shoot him-!"

The Junkers couldn't get their sights up as he barreled through and knocked them down. Dazed, one of them tried to look up but had a rusty blade shoved into his gullet, grasping at the other hand smothering his mouth. The second Junker lifted his gun up to the attacker but had it knocked away and the blade quickly impaled into his skull. At the end of that hallway before him, another Junker popped in and saw what was happening. Nathan quickly grabbed All-American and fired a two-round burst at the man, taking him out before he could attempt anything. However, more approaching voices could be heard from that doorway. Planting his boot on the corpse's head and retrieving his blade from it with a crunching squelch, he sheathed it and was about to run the other way, until he stopped in his tracks and just looked back at the doorway behind him. Hearing the Junkers close to the door, but not peeking their heads out as they were arguing about who was going to go in, first.

The Courier tightened the grip on his rifle. If he was going to run away from a bunch of wastrels, he might as well make some of them choke on their own blood as punishment.

Calmly and slowly, he turned around to face the door and reached down to his belt. After he retrieved a frag grenade, he inserted his thumb into the ring and pulled it off, the spoon popping out. He threw it, watching it fly to the doorway until it bounced off the wall and into the hallway. Not long after, it exploded, accompanied by terrified screams and splatters of blood. He charged forward with his carbine at the ready, running through the doorway and immediately seeing the dismembered remains of the targets caught in the blast. There were others, further away, either dazed or trying to recover from the shock. The Courier didn't give them any quarter as he quickly shot them, dropping them as fast as his rifle could. The room was swiftly cleared of hostiles, and he was about to make his way through another large doorway, but a car drove into the way to block him.

"Light that cunt up!" the driver yelled to the crew.

The man operating the turret rotated to face the approaching man but lost his footing when something heavy jumped on top of the car. He looks up in horror and sees the "cunt" standing on top of their hood, pointing his carbine point-blank at his face. After he fired off a quick and life-ending shot to the machine-gunner, the Courier then lowered his sight to the windshield and started firing at the passengers inside. They screamed and flailed as half a magazine was dumped into their seats, blood covering the windshield as it shattered. Certain they were dead, the Courier hopped off the hood to the other side of the doorway and kept running. He could hear more Junkers approaching from behind the car but didn't pay them any mind as they took in the aftermath.

"Ah, shit, look what he did to Connor and Dave!"

"Fucking hell!"

Running through a couple more corridors, he barreled through another doorway and into another wide-open room. Immediately, he spots a group of Junkers in the same room. Nathan opens fire without pause, and the Junkers return fire but were caught off-guard to effectively put up a successful defense. The seasoned Waster had cut down several of them in a short amount of time, scaring and forcing them to run inside. He did a quick mag swap before he was about to go forward and chase them further, but there was the rev of another vehicle and the slim frame of a hovering motorcycle came through the doorway. Nathan ducked as the motorcycle nearly rammed into him and the driver swung a bladed club at him. He rolled and pivoted to face the threat, but felt something brush up against his leg. Spotting a makeshift hatchet next to its dead owner. Then, the hover-cycle gracefully twirled around in the air and faced his target, again. Zooming forward without little effort, the driver quickly closed the distance between him and the outsider, but his body went limp as a hatchet was driven into his cranium. He lost control of the bike as it crashed into a thick metal wall. Nathan dropped the hatchet with the driver still stuck to it and ran into the next room.

As soon as he entered the larger, more spacious room, he was fired upon by the retreating Junkers and their back up. Taking cover by some ramparts spread throughout the room. Nathan rolled to cover in a rampart on his side, and quickly fired back. A few fell to his gunshots, but there were more Junkers pouring in from the doorway on their side to quickly replace them.

Many of them were foolishly bunching up, and he entertained the idea of chucking a few grenades. However, he had to conserve everything he had until he got out of this chase, unsure if Overwatch could come to his aid in time. Eventually, noticed there were a bunch of pods hanging over the room, to a rail that they mechanically clamped to and were quite big. So, Nathan swapped out All-America for his Brush Gun and took aim at the pod hanging over the middle of the room. With one shot, the clamp became damaged and the pod fell to the floor with a loud thud, making the entire room quake and knocking some approaching Junkers down. He repeated this with the other pods, making them rain down on their side and even managing to crush a few in a flurry of blood and guts. Taking advantage of their dazed states, the Courier exited cover and fired as he was on the move. He made it to the first pod he dropped in the middle of the room, using it as cover and taking down more targets from there. Caught off-guard from the air drops and having their numbers whittling down so rapidly, some of the Junkers ran from cover to retreat into the exit. There were still a few who kept fighting, so after a quick mag change with his carbine, Nathan rose from cover to keep firing.

He couldn't get another shot off as the rounded panels of the pod suddenly blew off and sent him flying back as one panel flew directly into his face. Reeling in pain as he then threw the metal panel off, he sat up to see that the pod he used as cover now became a large, quadrupedal Omnic. With four large legs with metallic hooves, it had a humanoid upper-body, with two arms and a very distinct head. Its right arm was a "normal" hand, buts its left arm had a cylindrical shape that rotated and spun like a minigun. It then snapped its head to Nathan, revealing a curved face with four red dots for eyes and two barrels protruding from each side of its face that looked like gun barrels. The Omnic then emitted a noise that sounded like a very distorted air horn, echoing throughout the entire room. Its presence making the firefight stop for a few moments.

' _OR14_ ,' the Waster recognized from his online research, but awestruck from seeing the thing in real-life. Bigger than even some Sentry Bots. 'You are  _much_  uglier than Orisa…'

"It's a bloody  _Wom!_ "

Nathan immediately began firing at the OR14, his 5.56 rounds just pinging off its armor with little effect. The beast of a machine stomped its two front feet to face the attacking human and aimed its gun arm at him. However, the weapon seized up and sparked, the OR14 glancing at its weapon before just swinging its right arm forward and emitted a large glowing blade of red energy. Red glowing off everything close-by. With a roar, it jumped forward and Nathan quickly rolled out of the way as the energy sword effortlessly stabbed the metal floor like it was sand. The tall human then watched as the gigantic machine retrieved its sword from the ground and snapped its red eyes to him. He swapped his Brush Gun out and starting slinging .45-70 to its face, knocking the OR14's head back a few times but doing nothing else as it jumped forward and swung the blade at him, again. Slicing through the wall and leaving a trail of burning metal.

The Junkers watched the fight until the man the machine was fighting headed towards them, but they were too occupied with shooting the OR14 or being terrified that it was too late for them to do anything as the Waster barreled into them and made a dash for the exit. One Junker tried to hit the running human, but he was dazed by a quick jab to the face before being thrown backwards. Right into the blade of the Omnic as it stopped and sliced him in half, then snapping its head at the rest of the humans in its way.

The guns go off around Nathan, but none of it directed at him. When he made it to the doorway he glanced back to see the Omnic absolutely decimating the ill-equipped humans. All their small arms fire doing nothing as it literally ripped them all to shreds, sometimes crushing or kicking with its powerful legs. He left, leaving it to deal with the rest of those bruisers. He'll deal with it later if it decides to chase him, too. Tackling one problem at a time.

The sounds of screaming and clanking metal growing distant behind him, he was still intent on finding a way outside of this facility. Making occasional glances to his Pip-Boy's map to see if he was on a path, at least. His pack and person starting to feel light from all the ammo he burned through, trying to calculate in his head how much he had left – how much longer he could hold out for.

His thoughts were disturbed after he took a right and found himself in another long metal hallway. It seemed clear and a straight stretch for him to go through, but that notion was dashed away as floodlights at the far end lit up the entire hall and nearly blinded him. Not a second later, the engine of the car rumbled through the straight hall and towards him, the floodlights getting closer and brighter. Nathan fired towards the car, but it didn't seem to have any effect as it kept coming towards him. Other flashes started to pop into view as gunshots echoed through the hall and the ground pinged at his feet. The car didn't stop no matter what he did, getting close to ramming him head-on. Then, he looks to his left to see a door illuminated by the floodlights. He scrambles over to it, inserting his fingers into the slits and pulled to pry it open. Gritting his teeth and feeling his arms burn as the lights became brighter. Finally, one side of the mechanical door slides open and he jumped inside, narrowly missing the car when it sped by and was practically grinding against the walls.

Putting his back against the door, he peered out to see if there were any other threats approaching him from either side of the hallway. However, his breathing changed when he heard his Pip-Boy's Geiger start ticking very rapidly, seeing he was in a room filled with glowing canisters and material. Noticing how hot it seemed inside the room.

He ran out back into the hallway but was stopped as a horde of Junkers blocked his path. One got very close to him with a club and swung at him, but he ducked and swiftly sliced the bastard in the throat. Unfortunately, the hallway got brighter from behind and he jumped back into the doorway he pried open. The choking Junker getting rear-ended by the car as it blocks the door and the machine gunner starts firing inside wildly.

Nathan cringed into the corner, well out of the machine gun's line of sight but still very much in an uncomfortable position. His Geiger counter going off as the machine rained bullets into the room. Hitting some of the containers and making glowing blue goo spill out. His wrist cricketing even louder.

He took a glance at the Pip-Boy, fervidly studying the map and seeing an exit to this hallway of carcinogens, but only after he runs through long stretches alongside the material. The longer he loitered here, the more his chances of either getting mobbed by a bunch of wastrels or developing tumors increase. His choice was made as a Junker popped through the driver side window and into the doorway, about to throw a grenade in before Nathan pulled out his sidearm and shot him dead. Hastily, he grabbed the active grenade and threw it back into the car. He made a break from cover and ran into the hall of radiation. The car's gunner was close to firing upon him until an explosion went off inside, setting off the gas and making it explode twice. Its burning remains blocking the doorway.

The Waster's large legs fell heavily against the metal floor as he ran through the hall, with his Geiger counter beginning to sound like a swarm of angry wasps buzzing right next to his ear. His boots sloshing through puddles of blue goo and trying not to slip. Currently, the only discomfort felt was the heat radiating off from these walls. Hot enough to make him sweat a little under his mask. However, he knew there wouldn't be much time until he started experiencing less pleasant symptoms. More than possible in an area saturated as this, even with the Rad-X he ingested earlier.

He ends up taking a right and spots another long hallway he would have to travel through. The size and scope of the Omnium really becoming a weakness, not a strength. Every part of his body, except the head, was woefully overexposed to this much radiation for this long. Even the hellholes back home always had an exit. Somewhere to fall back when it was too much. Now, what was the length of a stone's throw felt more like a mile for Nathan as he ran as fast as his legs could muster. Crossing this blue mile that exhausted him from simply looking at it. He thought he could feel a knot begin to form in his stomach and work its way up to his throat, but he shoved that feeling away to survive. Trying to hold off for one more minute, with Arroyo's cool canyon winds flashing in his mind.

Unfortunately, Nathan reached the end of this long hall to find that the exit was just a hole that opened to what looked like a large pipe. Unable to tell where it leads. Seeing that it was stained blue. He looked around to see no other options for escape, and only hear his Geiger counter clicking rapidly.

Quickly deciding, he got his pack off and threw it down the hole, before climbing in feet-first with his rifles pressed up against his side. With his weight and all the shit covering the inside, he began to slide down and feel himself fall to wherever the pipe was going to take him. Wind and the occasional blue glop rushing into him the faster he went. Feeling himself get rocked against the walls through some tight turns and grooves. Sensation and orientation getting lost in him. Feeling the knot in his stomach get even stronger. Finally, he could see light flood in and was ejected outside of the Omnium and fell feet-first into a ditch. Landing in a pool cocktail of hazardous waste.

Not a second later, he broke the surface and scrambled to drier land. Hauling his rifles with him and grabbing his pack as it floated on the surface of muck. Reaching the shore, he threw his belongings onto the metal ground and clambered out. As soon as he was on all fours on solid ground, he spun around, took off his helmet, and hovered his head over the pool. With little effort needed, vomit spewed from his mouth and into the pool, coming out as fast as he did. He heaved a few more times after that, feeling his throat burn and the muscles around his abdomen and chest tighten. The contents of his stomach spilling out and mixing with the industrial waste. Eventually, he was just coughing violently, still feeling something slosh around in his stomach.

After a while, he moved away from his vomit and sat down, gasping for air. Tasting iron and mucus. He rested there to gain his bearings, figure out where he was and how to get the hell off this continent. Unfortunately, his plan was interrupted as motorcycles shrieked and he turned to see vehicles already gunning for him.

Nathan ran to his rifle, picking it up and already firing on the approaching Junkers. He had taken down one driver on a bike, and a car stopped as it started receiving fire. He didn't let up as his trigger-finger got off shots much faster than the old set up. However, when his gun had run dry, that was when he noticed someone running up behind him and clock him on the back of the head. Feeling that without his helmet and grimacing when he fell on to his knees. He turned his head back with a snarl and blocked another bash to the head, catching the offender's wrist. With his other arm, he punched the Junker in the face and almost knocked him unconscious. After, he wrapped his Pip-Boy around his throat and pulled out his combat knife. The man's eyes darting to the blade and immediately regretting the decision he made.

But before the Waster could drive the blade in, there was a low rumble and he turned to see the large and camouflaged body of the tank drive up to him. Its treads make the ground tremor with every foot it went. Then, another vehicle came into view – the one with the large wheels – coming up to the left of the tank. Other cars started coming in, surrounding Nathan, and blocking off most escape routes. He could only stand and watch as guns and metal surrounded him, as the driver of the wheeled-car climbed out and onto the hood. Taking out her ax with her. As soon as she caught sight of the man she's been chasing, she smirked. As if seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

Nathan still held onto his hostage, his knife dangling millimeters above his skin.

However, the Queen smile disappeared as there was a sudden roar and something crashed on top of the tank, denting it. Covered in blood and other sorts of organic matter, the tenacious OR14 had chased Nathan all over the facility. With its sword, it effortlessly sliced the barrel off the Abrams tank and jammed it into the cockpit to get at the crew inside. Nathan backed away with his hostage, while something jumped down towards the large war machine.

Everyone watched as the Queen cut into the Omnic's sword-arm with her ax before it wrestled free and swiped at her with its sword. The human was nimble, able to dodge and roll around its attacks before she twirled around and sliced her ax right through the sword-arm. It let out a pained roar when its right arm fell, the sword dissipating into the air. It tries to retaliate with its other arm, but she uses the momentum and lets her ax drive itself into it and lob it off as well. With the OR14 armless and reeling back, the Queen jumped up and cleaved her ax right into the middle of its face, making the machine seize up and collapse to the floor. The machine's body finally went limp after she did that, and its eyes flickered and faded to black.

The Queen retrieved her ax and heaved it over her shoulder, spitting on the corpse with her entourage cheering. Face-to-face the Courier.

"Thanks for the warm-up, honey," the Queen said to him, sporting that fucking grin, again. "But I'm afraid this road has ended. Heh, I mean…!"

She laughed as she twirled around and gestured to all the Junkers around them, emphasizing how he was surrounded. All the guns and pointy objects facing his general direction.

"You really have to be fucked in head to see that you're not in a favorable position, and I like that. But come on, what else are you going to do?"

Nathan Brin stared at her, breathing heavily as he tried to recuperate from what happened in the past hour, looking down at the Junker he was holding in a chokehold. This hostage was his only form of leverage in this fucked-up version of a standoff with just a knife in his hands. Although, he could probably buy himself some time and take out a few of them in the process. Maybe the Queen, too. He certainly wasn't in a position with many luxuries. Yet, how was he going to do that?

The Courier answered his question as he just looked at the Junker he held hostage and noticed he wasn't wearing much armor, nonetheless a shirt. Then, glancing at his own blade. He figured giving these discount-raiders one hell of a shock before he died might make things a little bit worth it, for once.

Without further hesitation, the Courier flipped the blade underhand and hovered it over the top of the Junker's abdomen. The Queen's smirk disappeared when she saw him do that.

His hostage didn't even feel it as the blade plunged into chest, reflexively letting out a raspy gasp of surprise. Then, the rest of the Junkers could only watch in revulsion and disbelief as the out-of-towner pulled the blade downward and sliced through his belly with ease. The flesh on his stomach ripping like paper and his guts literally spilling out to hang like matted rope. Everyone except the Courier and the Queen gasped, and the man he was gutting flailed and screamed, starting to vomit up blood seeping into his esophagus. His hands trying to push the arms and the knife away from his burning chest, his legs struggling to gain a proper footing while lifted into the air.

"AAHHHH! AAAAGHHH" his pained screams echoed with the hailing winds, unable to even ask for help.

However, the Courier wasn't finished, as he let go of the blade and plunged his hand straight into the man's body. Making him scream and flail twice fold. He had to work fast, unsure how long before someone decides to shoot him for retribution. It was warm and moist, feeling squishy organs and hard bone scrape against his gloves. He felt the tremors of what he was looking for, as it was very noticeable given the extreme duress his victim was experiencing. Finally, he could feel the beating heart thump against his fingers.

With one swift, strong motion, he retrieved his arm and ripped out the poor bastard's heart with a sickening squelch, bringing it to the open air for all of them to see. The muscle still beating and trying to pump out the blood it still had within it, as its owner flopped to the floor. Even then, the Junkers didn't have time to properly react before the scarred Courier sank his teeth into the heart. Blood squirting onto his face and the Queen's.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

"WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"THIS IS FUCKED! OH MY GOD, THAT IS FUCKED!"

"NO! NO! NO! NO! OH MY GOD, NO!"

Aside from verbally expressing their absolute horror, some of the Queen's men began vomiting wherever they could, and a few others even ran or drove away from what they just witnessed. One of the tank operators began clutching his chest, seizing up and collapsing inside back into the tank. His mate hurriedly going down to help him.

The Queen could do nothing but stand there. Someone who's done so much to survive ever since she lost her home, ever since the Omnium was scrapped. Did everything to ensure that she would come out on top. She thought she had seen everything in the Outback, in the Crisis, in the Scrapyard. Yet, she had never witnessed such a gruesome and depraved sight ever committed by a human to another human. One with such a cold-blooded lack of remorse. So quickly, without little hesitation. Unable to comprehend it. And to think she wanted to fuck this man.

The Junker Queen was so lost in her thoughts that she barely saw the bloody blade coming down onto her and barely blocked it with the hilt of her ax. Her arms shaking, she came face to face with the out-of-towner. His mouth and teeth stained with blood as he snarled at her.

"I wish that was you…" the man callously said, growling like an animal. "Taking advantage of those as you please. I'd rid the planet of rapists like you, even if it took forever."

He kept snarling as he applied more downward pressure onto the ax and brought his face even closer to hers. The smell of blood assaulting her nose.

"' _Practiced hands make for short work_!'"

The Queen stared at him, genuinely terrified until she yelled and pushed him away with her ax. They were about to follow up and try to cleave each other, but a sudden explosion sent her and the Courier flying away from the other.

Brin landed on his back with a groan, dazed again by the blast wave. After a few moments, he shook his head and looked around to see the barricade created around him was being bombarded by red bombs with fuses. Hearing the rev of an actual motorcycle beyond the barrier.

"Mailman – if you're in there, mate – let's get a move on cause we're here to rescue you!" Junkrat yelled over all the chaos, very distinctly.

The Courier growled as grabbed his knife and looked around, but couldn't immediately see the Queen anywhere. Seeing her big car was gone too, not among the wreckage being created. His search was disturbed by another car going up in flames, and he scrambled to find his pack and guns. He'll deal with the Queen later.

He got up, but first turned around and ran to the tank. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a Plasma Grenade while he hopped on the tank and got to the top of the turret. Seeing the crew occupied with trying to revive their friend. He pulled the pin, dropped the grenade inside, and slammed the door shut on top of them. He then hopped off, running away before he could hear the scream of the men and the explosion from inside. The powerful energy grenade blew a plume of lava-hot plasma out of any ports it found and quickly melted the tank from inside. It's large frame now dissolving like chocolate in the sun, and becoming glowing green sludge. The plasma setting off some of the warheads the tank had, at least the ones still intact. The explosion was so great and distinct, that even Junkrat paused and looked at it in awe. The green glinting off his eyes.

"Oh ho hooo!" was all he could verbalize, absolutely in love with what he just saw. "You've got to show me one of those bombs of yours, mate!"

Nathan said nothing as he hopped into the carriage and immediately began firing at the cars, providing covering fire as Rutledge twisted the throttle and the chopper sped off into the Outback. A few of the Junker's driving after them.

* * *

A couple hundred meters away, the Queen drove her large monster truck in the complete opposite direction until she slammed on the breaks. She hurriedly reached up, grabbing the receiver for her CB radio, tuning the frequency, and pressing a couple of buttons. She breathed heavily for a few moments, trying to get her bearings. Shutting her eyes for a minute, and opening them to reveal a set of fiery auburn orbs.

"Attention all Junkers, attention all Junkers!" she called into the radio, her tone clearly livid. "There is a mad,  _mad_  psychopath out there riding with the  _Rat_ and the  _Pig,_ riding due West of the  _Scrapheap_. I want every able-bodied bastard out there and hunting them down! There will be a hefty reward to anyone who'll bring me their heads, and nothing but their heads! This is your Queen, speaking. Over, and out."

The Queen of Junkertown clicked the radio off, snapping the receiver back into place. She sat there for several silent moments, holding onto the wheel, and breathing hard. Snapping her eyes shut and leaning her forehead against her wheel.

"Fuck!"

* * *

The three on the motorcycle were speeding along an old road and had just left the Omnium grounds. They weren't the only ones, as the surviving and more headstrong ranks of the War Party were giving pursuit. While Rutledge's hog was a powerful and deafening machine, the more advanced automobiles were quickly catching up to them. Nathan fired his rifle at the marauding Junkers to alleviate the pressure.

The wagon was replaced with a larger cart that was much more fitted to his size and had plenty of cover with its sides. Big and wide enough for him to even stand. Wasn't as smooth or stable as he'd like, but it was a huge improvement, nonetheless.

Shooting down another biker crew getting too close, he expertly changed mags when something nearly flew into them and burst into flames onto the sands. To his left of the wagon, there was another car tailing them with a man hanging out of the passenger side with a Molotov cocktail. The Courier instantly knew what to shoot, hovering the little red reticle of his scope near the Junker's hand. With a squeeze of the trigger, he watched as the passenger burst into flames and scream before jumping out of the window. The driver hitting the brakes and stopping for their comrade.

Nathan stopped and crouched down for a second, breathing heavily as he watched the car get far. His eyes then twitched to other splotches in the distance, glinting and kicking up dust as they followed. He sneered at first but realized his mouth was still drenched in blood. He immediately wiped it off, scraping his face into the sleeve of his shirt and spitting to the sand. With most of it off, he put his helmet back on and walked over to the front of the cart.

"Sorry about accidentally leaving you to die, mate!" Junkrat exclaimed with a grin, noticing him come up. "Turns out Jerry looks indistinguishable from you with that coat of yours. Honest!"

"Can it," the Courier responded, not in a humorous mood. "What the fuck are we doing, now?!"

"I'm glad you asked! You see, Roadhog and I had some time to devise a  _totally new_  plan to get rid of the Queen. Basically, waste her and her entire brigade!"

"… That it?"

"Well, there's also a part where we rigged an old bridge a couple clicks from here to blow and bring them all down with the rubble, but that's more a backup plan if we weren't able to finish Step A… And speaking of Step A!"

Nathan turned around to see what he was talking about, and sure enough, there was another armada of Junkers currently on their tail. This convoy of destruction seemed somewhat larger, their numbers replenished with fresh reinforcements from nowhere. Looking to their sides, he could see even more cars come up over the dunes and drifting over to them. His eyes scanned the surroundings, spotting everyone that was out to get them. However, far behind them and in the middle of the Armada that had formed, he saw the large, dark frames of the Queen's wheeled vehicle.

"Take on all of that?" Brin asked, frowning. "…Fuck it."

"That's the spirit!" Junkrat exclaimed, bringing up his grenade launcher. "Now, the Queen will most definitely keep herself to the center of her armada to be protected on all sides. What we must do is whittle their numbers and chip away like miners searching for gold. Except, the ore, in this case, is a rather venomous rattlesnake with a mohawk. They'll chase Roadie's hog all over the bush, but we may need to divert some of their attention to make sure they don't turn him into roadkill by the time we get to the bridge."

"And how do we do that?"

Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes only grinned upon being asked, producing a match and striking it against his vest to light it. Nathan narrowed his eyes at him before he looked down and noticed a fuse stemming out from his sidecar. Watching in terror as the Junker lit it.

"Getting close and personal!"

The fuse quickly burned through and a rocket-like nozzle lit up and almost burned Nathan's face off. Junkrat decoupled his sidecar from the motorcycle when it blasted off into the air and flew over them. Nathan watched him in complete surprise and astonishment as the sidecar then veered towards the oncoming convoy, the rocket ripping through the air and the "pilot" cackling madly as he rode it like a steer. His ride was short-lived, however, when it then crashed on top of a huge truck and knocked a few passengers off into the sand. A few moments later, Junkrat rose from the wreckage covered in soot but somehow unscathed. Waving to Nathan and Mako.

"Crazy motherfucker!" the former exclaimed.

"Yup," the latter agreed.

Without deliberation, Junkrat began lobbing bombs at the surrounding cars. It was surprisingly effective, many of the vehicles bobbing and weaving to avoid getting hit. Those hit becoming fiery scrap in seconds. Some of them even started to crash into each other, not expecting the sudden surprise. That only resulted in a marginal dip in their numbers, and it wasn't long until they started retaliating.

Nathan pulled out his rifle as he saw men climb out of the truck and onto the carriage, shooting them before they could get close to Jamison. In retaliation, he started receiving fire from cars that were at the front and closest to them. He felt the cart begin to wind and move as Mako took evasive action, speeding up the motorcycle if he had to.

He kept firing, his rounds peppering the windshields of some of them. Taking out a few gunners, passengers, and drivers wasn't difficult – even at these speeds – but it still seemed like an unrewarding effort as there was always someone quick to replace whoever he just killed. Some cars becoming wobbly for just a few seconds before their driver is thrown out the door and someone else is behind the wheel.

Suddenly, he was knocked off his feet and fell to the cart as the motorcycle suddenly decreased speed. He noticed a shadow wash over them and looked to see a truck had gotten in front. The truck tried to brake-check them, but Roadhog expertly dodged and swerved out of the way and went up to its side. Even with that, more shadows appeared on top of the truck with three figures climbing and looking down at them. Nathan brought his rifle up and shot at all three of them before they could do anything, one of them falling and landing straight into his cart, nearly on top of him. Then his weapon clattered to the floor next to his corpse. Nathan sat up, seeing a sawed-off shotgun conveniently there.

The sound of a motorcycle was approaching the left and Nathan stood up to see a rider and passenger getting ready to strike at them with their weapons. They got close, but Nathan grabbed the sawed-off and fired a powerful blast that blew the passenger's head off and sent them reeling to the road. The driver was about to retaliate, but a large hook knocked him off his motorcycle and rolling across the road. Then, Roadhog pulled out his shotgun with his other hand and blasted another motorcycle duo with a wall of scrap. The fat man holstered his gun and hook, before looking over his shoulder and nodding. The Courier returning the gesture.

The cart shook again as the truck slammed into them. Nathan looked up to see the cabin for the truck was high and armored, not providing a good view for him to try and shoot it head on. Subsequently, he looked down at the crude but working "scattergun" he had acquired and saw that its former-owner had a bandolier of ammo for it. Also, some of the contents of his pack spilled out over the cart floor, and some of them were his glowing, green grenades.

"Rutledge!" he exclaimed, catching his attention. "Bring me in front of the truck. I've got an idea."

Rutledge looked at him for several moments before simply nodding and cranking the throttle on his bike. The bike chugged as it got faster, able to overtake the truck and even avoid getting pitted by it. Now in front, Nathan ejected the spent cartridge from the shotgun and replaced it with a fresh one, before grabbing one of his grenades and standing up from cover. Pulling the pin, he threw the grenade directly to the windshield and brought up the barrel of the shotgun. He squeezed the trigger and the plasma grenade exploded into a cloud of super-heated green energy. It dissipated a second later to reveal the cabin half-melted and a melting skeleton in the driver's seat. The truck then tipped and skidded onto its side, car and bikes narrowly turning to avoid hitting its large body. A few were unlucky, and Nathan got to watch the whole thing before it spontaneously exploded. Even Junkrat had to pause what he was doing to watch the flame rise into the sky, mixed with some green.

"Oooh, what a lovely sight!" the explosive freak exclaimed in delight. "Ha, this is like those old movies!"

The Queen could see the flames from where she was, and it didn't take long for her pass-by the huge wreckage that was created by the sudden bright-green explosion. After looking at it, she turned her eyes back at the road and seethed towards the horizon. She grabbed the gear lever and kicked it into high-gear, the rev of her car becoming louder and feeling it vibrate through the body. Quickly taking up speed and making it to the front.

Nathan repeated the shotgun-plasma grenade combo after being successful on the large truck, practically obliterating any vehicle foolish enough to veer lose to Roadhog or the cart. Sometimes just using the shotgun itself to blast any small vehicles that came close. Some of them now began to keep their distance from the chopper and cart, resorting to more ranged options and trying to take them out.

"Cowards."

A large pick-up truck suddenly sped up and got in front of the motorcycle but trying not to get too close. In the truck's bed was a mounted gun with an operator turning it to fire. Seeing this, Roadhog brought out his hook again and began spinning it in a circle as he swerved and speeded to avoid incoming fire. After a few more revolutions, he threw the hook at the truck and successfully hooked the machine-gunner, activating the crank at his hip and ripping the man out from the turret. Nathan was too preoccupied with shooting when the hooked man crashed into him and they were both sent over the edge of the cart. Fortunately, Nathan grabbed the edge just in time and hovered over the moving road. He wasn't the only one in a precarious position, as he looked to his side to see the Junker Roadhog hooked hanging on for dear life, as well. The Courier quickly blasted him directly with the shotgun, removing excess weight and splattering blood all over himself, as if he wasn't covered in enough shit.

He was about to clamber back in the cart but looked back at the rest of the convoy to see that their numbers had significantly dwindled. Everything surprisingly going according to "plan". There were still quite a few, and he was doubting they would be able to take all of them out by the time they would be forced to take "Step B". However, in his sightseeing, he spotted the large-wheeled vehicle amidst the crowd. A red mohawk very visible through the windshield. A twitch in his brain going off.

"Rutledge!" he yelled, climbing back in, and running to the front. "I'm going on the offensive; Need to cut these bastards down more quickly. Bring me close to a car and I'll jump on!"

Roadhog hesitated for a moment but nodded his head in the end. Eventually, the chopper sped up again and the cart was brought up to the side of the truck from earlier. Affixing the shotgun to his belt, Nathan jumped and got his arms around the edge of the flatbed. Quickly climbing on, a man popped from the passenger side window but Roadhog's hook flew in and swept him away.

Back on his feet, Nathan grabbed one of his rifles and began firing away at the other cars, some of them losing control and crashing into the others. He was unrelenting in his shooting, even with fire coming his way. People and bikes droppings like flies with every shot. As a result, the truck he was on began to drive erratically to try knocking off. The driver succeeded when he slammed the brakes and made the tall man fall on his back. Yet, Nathan saw they were close to another car, so he got up and jumped from the flatbed. Leaving a grenade while he was at it.

Landing on the hood of the other car as an explosion went off behind, Junkers popped out from the car to try and shoot them, but Nathan swiftly dropped them with his carbine. Not wanting to waste any more time, he got to his feet again and ran across the car before jumping to another pickup truck. He gave the one he was a going-away present, as well, a fragmentation grenade ripping up anyone inside.

On the second truck, two men popped up through the sunroof to deal with the Waster but were quickly blasted by a barrel each from the sawed-off. He got to the flatbed but stopped as soon as he heard someone calling out to him.

"Hey, Postman!" he heard Fawkes call out to him, on a different vehicle. "The bridge is coming up!"

Looking to where he was pointing, Nathan turned around to see that there was a canyon that couldn't have been more than a couple of clicks out. On the horizon and with a derelict bridge right in their view. He heard another explosion and turned back to see Junkrat flying after he launched himself into another vehicle, and lobbing more bombs. That was when Nathan's eyes landed on the Queen's chariot and he had that cold chill crawl up his gut, again. Seeing she was only a couple of cars over from him. He couldn't reflect longer as the truck was suddenly rammed, and he flew forward and hit the grille of a big-rig.

He grabbed the hood ornament, barely hanging on as he dangled over the air. A Junker from the passenger's side leans out to shoot him but Nathan returns with a shotgun blast to the face. The truck driver then tries to hit him, and Nathan hits him too but only blows his hand off. The truck driver writhes in pain, letting go of the wheel and causing the truck to veer to the right. It slams into a car, practically plowing it under its wheels. Having enough, the dangling Waster got up the hood, clambered over the cabin, and jumped over to the trailer the rig was hauling. He kept running, running fast enough that when he jumped off he barely made it to the Queen's chariot and grabbed ahold of the stout bars at the front of the car.

Quickly clambering up to the hood, feeling his blood boil with every heartbeat, he got into view of the windshield and fired his sawed-off one more time towards the driver's seat. Towards the Queen.

The glass clouded but remained intact as the Queen jerked back and had her vision obscured. She watched as the man then climbed onto his hood and maintained a footing even when she began to swerve and jerk the wheel forcefully, even ramming some of the cars. The man in black armor maintained his grip, staring at the windshield the entire time.

Nathan could have unloaded any of his rifles to break the glass, he could've used one of his grenades to melt this piece of scrap car and her with it, or he could've just kicked the glass out and lunged at her there. He didn't want to because he wanted to make this last.

The Courier jumped up, climbing onto the roof, and getting to the monster truck's flatbed. Setting foot there, a Junker tried to lunge at him with a club, but he dodged the attack and simultaneously took out his blade, stabbing him with it. Ripping through his flesh, he kicked the Junker off and turned to face the inside of the cabin with his bloodied knife.

The Queen looked back, casting a seething glare before she gave the wheels to her remaining subordinate and got up from her seat. Bringing her battle-ax in tow.

When she got out, the two stared at each other for several moments as bombs and gunshots went off all around them. The noise of her chariot's engine almost deafening out there. Even then, Nathan's eyes glanced behind her to see the bridge getting close.

He wasted no more time as he roared and charged towards her, the Queen bringing up her ax to block the blade. She then pivoted her ax and pushed him away, positioning herself to swing at him. With powerful, fast swipes at her opponent, she backs him into the corner and tried to bring her weapon crashing down on him, but the Courier sidesteps it to make it cleave into the hull and kicks her in the face. She lets go and falls to the side, almost falling off her truck. The Queen then yelps in pain as something pulls on her pony-tail hard and slams her back to the floor. A hand wraps around her throat, almost choking her, and looks up to see the red-eyes hanging over her. Barely looking human with all the drab on.

The driver tries to intervene, but the Courier shoots him dead and he slumps against the wheel with his feet jammed into the pedal.

The Waster looks back down at the Junker Queen, watching her struggle with her neck in a vise. Wasting no time as he retrieves one of the knives hanging from her belt and jabs her in the stomach with it. She gasps, her eyes becoming wide as disks. Peering up at the helmeted outsider, and feeling pain reel up her spine when he began to twist it, slowly. He wanted to make this last, make her hurt for what the Queen tried to do, but the plan and his surroundings had other ideas.

Instead, he just bent down and had his face up against hers. Watching as the Queen's eyes become filled with terror, pain, and anguish in the last few moments of her life. His only regret was not coming here sooner to deal with this Royal Rapist.

"Tyrant," was all he said to her when he retracted the blade from her stomach, making her yell even more in pain, and jammed it through her pony-tail and into the bed.

The Courier stood up, only to be suddenly scooped up by a large hook and taken off the chariot.

After that, explosions started to go off around the bridge, and the weak concrete and rebar began to crumble beneath the convoy. At the front, Roadhog, Junkrat, and the Courier sped along as explosions went off meters behind them. The hog roaring with fury and spitting out flames. Fortunately, the old vehicle crossed the gap in time as the final explosion went off and the last of the bridge began to crumble into the canyon below. Taking the convoy of Junkers with it.

The Queen tried to wrestle her hair from the knife, but it was firmly in the metal and nothing she could do made it budge. As she felt her chariot begin to dip and fall through the air, the Queen of Junkertown let out a final scream as she plummeted hundreds of meters. The rest of her surviving convoy joining each other in their final moments. Eventually, the screams grew distant and there were only a few more explosions and crashes that echoed from the bottom.

After that, things around the Outback became quiet.

Nathan Brin walked to the edge of the destroyed bridge and looked over to see the tons of wreckage consecrated at the bottom of the canyon. Fire and mounds of scrapped metal where there should be a river.

He took his helmet off, looking with his own eyes. As he watched the wreckage settle into the river and his breathing become steadier, he brought his hand up and looked at the sawed-off. Feeling the heat of the barrel radiate to the wooden grip and through his gloves. The Waster tossed it down into the canyon, the weapon having served its purpose for him.

The Courier walked away from the edge, going to where Junkrat and Roadhog were.

"I have to say, mate," Junkrat said, sounding out of breath but with a smile. "That was one of the wildest rides I've ever been on! You wiped the floor with those bludgers. Never seen anyone work the way you do. Can definitely see why you ended up with those Overwatch blokes! Good onya, Cour-!"

Jamison yelped as Nathan decked him straight in the face, unexpectedly, knocking him to the ground and making him immediately clutch his face as he began to writhe in pain.

"Next time, just shoot the person you want to kill!" the Courier angrily berated, shaking the pain on his knuckles away. Turning to face the larger man in the gas-mask. "You don't mind if I do it just this once, right?"

The masked bodyguard for Junkrat turned his head to look at his charge rolling on the ground. Blood already pouring out of his nose.

"Tell me next time, Brin," Rutledge responded.

"Okay…Okay!" Fawkes said, his voice more nasally as he got up and held one hand over his bloody nose. "I may have deserved that for what's happened recently. I'll admit, there definitely are some things that could've been avoided on my part. Maybe a bit on Roadhog… But did you really have to go for the face?!"

Mako and Nathan just looked at him, before the latter just silently walked away. Clambering into the cart and sitting his ass down.

"Let's go."

* * *

They drove half-an-hour away to a flat part of the Outback, but one that had much more grass and trees than what he'd ever seen around Junkertown.

With his pack and rifles close-by, Brin was pissing onto the trunk of a short tree. His urine in an unusually orange tint, with an empty, used-up bag of Rad-Away a couple of feet away. He soon finished, getting the last dribbles of radioactive pee out before putting his dick away and zipping up his pants. Still feeling a bit woozy and nauseous from the self-medicating that Dr. Ziegler would not approve of.

Nathan grabbed his pack and his rifles, walking over to a little campfire that Jamison and Mako had set-up close to the parked hog. Mako tending to the fire as he cooked more kangaroo and Jamison fidgeting with a bandage around his nose.

"Don't pick at it."

"I'm not!"

Plopping his gear and himself down, Nathan sat and stared at the dancing fire. Already feeling himself want to go to sleep.

He pulled out his Vault 13 Canteen but shook it to listen to the inside. Getting the cap off, he turned it upside down and caused only one little drop to fall out. Frustrated, he put it away to stare at the fire again.

"Want some of mine?" Jamison suddenly asked, holding a canteen of his own and shaking it. Able to hear its contents swish inside.

Nathan was a bit wary about sharing a drink with someone who was covered in soot and somehow had perpetually burning hair, but then remembered he just bit into a human heart.

He reached over and took the canteen from the Junker, opening it and bringing it up to his lips. He seized up as something sweet and creamy flooded into his mouth and he jerked away from the canteen. Almost spitting it out.

"The fuck's in that?" he asked, coughing as he handed the canteen back to its owner.

"Milk tea with boba. Half-sweet," Junkrat happily answered, taking a swig of his own. "Was able to nick some back at Junkertown."

He could've gone on, rambling about whatever his inane brain jumped to in the next moment, but the flame of their campfire swished in the wind when an MV-261 Orca flew overhead and hovered over the open ground they were near.

Nathan reached for his pack, tossing it over his back. He then looked towards the rifles, his eyes landing on the Brush Gun before quickly glancing at the two Junkers watching the ship. He grabbed his rifle holsters and wrapped it around his chest, finally standing up and walking away from the campfire.

"Thanks for the help," Nathan said, leaving them tired and with two glowing fusion cores on his back.

However, when the dropship landed, and the ramp opened, Nathan couldn't get on when a squad of soldiers rushed past him and pointed their weapons at the two Junkers. Then, another soldier rushed out in blue power armor before rocketing into the air, hovering over her men, and pointing a rocket launcher at the Australians.

"Junkrat and Roadhog! Lay down your arms and put your hands behind your backs!" Captain Fareeha Amari ordered, clearly not trying to make friends.

"Amari, what the fuck are you doing?!" Nathan Brin yelled up at her, running in front of the squad and her.

"Step aside, Brin. They are wanted criminals, and it is our duty as Overwatch agents to bring them in for justice!"

"They're the fucking contacts I had for this mission!"

"That's true, but that doesn't change the fact that they have committed crimes around the globe. Ranging from theft to murder!"

Nathan looked up at her, almost able to believe what she just said. This didn't seem like a proper way of saying "thanks", though…

"Now, now, now, now, now, hold on! Let me just clear one thing straight!" Junkrat began, bringing all eyes on him with his broken nose and nasally voice. "I'm not just some crazed, cold-blooded murderer; I'm just a murderer of the cold-blooded and crazed! There's a difference. I'm like you blokes!"

Nathan's face scrunched up when he said that, and the other Overwatch agents exchanged glances with each other. Captain Amari squinted frowned at them for a moment before shaking her head.

"That's enough! You're coming with us, dead or alive!"

"Uhm… I'd prefer alive."

"Amari, just what is going on?" Brin further questioned, only getting frustrated. "Did Winston have anything to say about this?"

Even in the dim light, Nathan could see her lose that serious expression for a moment, casting a glance to the side. Been stuck with her long enough to know how unlike her that seemed.

"Wait… He didn't, did he?" the observant Waster questioned, scowling at the woman in power armor. "Amari, if you fucked something up, I hope you can unfuck it because I sure as hell ain't-!"

"We accept your proposal for our arrest."

Nathan twisted on his heel to see Junkrat holding his hands up for everyone to see with an unworried smile. Now, everyone was confused.

"I realize after our little cameo in  _A Moment in Crime_  that we've become quite the international sensation," Junkrat admitted, his face beaming. "So, whatever you wish to do, I'm sure there is something we can all work out."

And then, he stood there, with his hands and his chin held high. Taking a little moment to look at Roadhog and nudge him in the elbow. A moment later, his partner sighed as he rose his hands up, too.

Everyone was silent for a while, either staring at the surrendering Junker or exchanging confused glances with each other. Even Nathan and Fareeha had a little moment, unable to find any clarification. And Roadhog just stood there, groaning as he shook his head.

"Fuck this! Y'all work this shit out amongst yourselves!" Nathan ranted, swaying his head, and stomping over to the dropship. "I'm taking a nap."

He left them, climbing onto the dropship while everyone else just watched. Everything was quiet in the Outback for several, long, awkward moments, until Junkrat spoke up again to break the silence.

"Uh, is it okay if we bring my partner's chopper with us? It's an antique."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rant-Time: Okay, one thing I do during the process of writing these chapters is that I have tabs for the Overwatch and Fallout Gamepedia pages open on Chrome, so I can have some lore sources to refer to if needed. To learn things I can use for the story or brush up on lore I'm not too sure of. I sometimes miss one or two things, but it usually isn't a dealbreaker.
> 
> HOWEVER… For these chapters, it wasn't until I had already written half of it that I learned that Junkertown and the Australian Omnium are the SAME PLACE!
> 
> When the Overwatch Gamepedia page said that Junkertown was "constructed from the ruins of the Australian omnium", I somehow thought it meant that they just took parts from the Omnium and constructed Junkertown elsewhere, but not the other way around! I didn't learn this until I looked at one of the videos Blizzard made previewing the map THAT WAS IN THE FUCKING REFERENCES SECTION AS A MERE LINK AND NOT THE FUCKING VIDEO SECTION!
> 
> FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCKK!
> 
> … Anyways, I hope that doesn't take away from the enjoyment any of y'all could get from this update. And thank goodness this is just a FanFic.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	45. Finding Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, PoeticPillock here!
> 
> Just wanted to say this might be the last chapter you'll see from me for a while since school is coming up again, but I'm happy I was actually ahead of schedule for once. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Sneaky-Edit: Okay, I just realized this chapter kept bugging out and wouldn't post properly on this site because of *one* line of dialogue, so that was great... -_-   
> Thankfully, it's not important to the story, so everything's okay. Sorry about that.

Gibraltar hadn't changed much since they left for Australia, but the returning agents more than welcomed the sight of their home away from home. Farther away from some more than others.

As soon as the dropship's door opened and ramped down to the concrete, the first ones to leave were the squad of agents, but toting their rifles as they escorted Junkrat and Roadhog outside into the Watchpoint. Jamison restrained by a pair of handcuffs with a glowing chain of blue-light, and Mako by a pair of metal gauntlets that could fit the large man - just barely.

"Look at this place, aye?" Jamison said, looking around the old Watchpoint with awe in his eccentric eyes. One of the few times the twitchy bombardier stood still. "Never thought we'd ever set foot in a Watchpoint… Well, with the New Overwatch, at least. Could've been a different story if their main HQ hadn't went  _kablooey_."

"Hmm," Mako responded, silently looking around.

"Hey, I'm just sayin'!" Jamison responded, holding up his hands.

Back on the dropship, Fareeha walked to the doorway and looked out at the landing area. Seeing everything clear around them and that the prisoners were still properly restrained. There wouldn't be much celebration coming from her as she saw her pseudo-commander – Winston – walking up to the landing area and towards the dropship. Even from here, she could see a troubled expression on the giant gorilla's face, clearly troubled with what happened. While she did feel a tinge of regret upon seeing him, it was nothing compared to seeing the expression of the old woman walking alongside Winston, her one eye painfully disappointed with her daughter.

"You're fucked," Nathan curtly remarked to Fareeha as he walked passed.

The younger Amari said nothing, knowing he was far from wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Fareeha composed herself before stepping out onto the concrete and walking towards superior and the former-Overwatch second-in-command. Maintaining a face of stone with her eagle-helmet held under her arm. Walking past the men she helped arrest for the greater good.

When she finally reached them, her mother maintained that critical gaze. Enough to bore a hole into stone. Winston worriedly looking at them both, mainly Ana.

"Oh, Fareeha…" the Mother spoke first, shaking her head as her anger drooped a tad. "What did you do?"

"I'm sorry, mother, but it had to be done," the Daughter solidly responded, her voice assertive and unfaltering. "We couldn't just let those two run amok across the world with all the damage they've caused. It's something that should've been done, earlier."

Her daughter had a point, and she couldn't fault her for wanting justice to be done. It was her way of achieving justice that had her worried. Something Ana feared when her daughter was still a little girl.

"I know Fareeha, but-"

" _Holy Dooley!_  Is that who I think it is?!"

The Overwatch agents didn't even have time to react to the sudden outburst as Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes burst forth and hopped right next to the group, surprising all of them. Even the hardened, old sniper jumped, her good eye becoming wide as a .50 BMG exit wound.

"Oi, it is!" the Junker recognized, bringing his cuffed hands to his cheeks, and letting out a drawn out, overdramatic gasp. " _Ana Amari_!"

The old Overwatch sniper didn't even time to react as Junkrat grabbed one of her hands and planted a kiss on it, before shaking it very furiously. Almost about to rip her arm off. Fareeha was about to stomp over to him in her blue armor, snarling, but Nathan's bulky Pip-Boy blocks her way. Looking at him to see an unworried expression on his face, holding his arm there until letting it down. The Daughter getting the message this time, thankfully.

"It is such a pleasure to meet you, ma'am!" Junkrat said, still latching onto her hand. "I am a  _huge_ fan of your work! I loved reading and watching about your exploits, even after Overwatch went tits up and you apparently carked it. Couldn't care less for your commander, but I always thought you were the better onstage personality."

"Umm… Thank you?" Ana said. Nathan silently entertained by seeing her like that.

"Do you mind if I ask for an autograph on my arm? Or if we could take a quick picture? And I see you're missing an eye, so I might be able to whip something up with a box of scraps and a pair of glasses if you'd like! Might give you an infection, but it'll certainly help with your depth perception 'till then."

Unfortunately, Junkrat wouldn't be able to hear Ana's answer to his generous offer as Roadhog stomps over to him and grabs his head with his meaty hands. Dragging him back to be a good, obedient prisoner.

"Roadie, what are you doing?! Don't ruin this for me! You're embarrassing me!" Junkrat tried to yell out, muffled by the palm of his hand.

"Shut up," Rutledge said, going back to the middle of the armed escort.

Watching that situation take care of itself, Nathan let out a low scoff as walked away from the landing area. Not before walking up to the Gorilla-Scientist with the two fusion cores.

"Here," he simply said, handing them to him before walking away.

"Oh, thanks! Good job!" Winston said, smiling until he looked down and noticed there were two. "Hey- Wait a minute!"

"I've noticed," Nathan stated, still walking away and leaving the Scientist in his confusion.

The noise of the landing area, between Junkrat's incessant squeaking and the Amari's beginning to squabble with each other, grew distant and soon faded when the tired Courier turned a corner. Strolling back to his quarters, with dirty clothes and sandy rifles. Taking the beaten path, almost having not to think about it, as if on auto-pilot. Just wanting to get back to that bed.

The seasoned wanderer didn't take long to get there, immediately dropping everything to the floor when the door shut closed behind him. Stripping his clothes off and getting into the shower, hot streams of water soon rushing over him. Washing off all the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood off his Wastelander body and down into the drain. Not even scrubbing or wiping it away, just standing there and letting the warmth wash over him and drench his hair. Feeling himself getting enveloped in the sweet, sweet heat.

But that didn't stop the sudden shiver in his spine when the taste of blood washed over his tongue, making him tense up and not feel the hot shower for a second. His mouth beginning to water, some of it already rushing out of the corner of his lips. As if an iron knife's broadside pressed against his tongue. He gagged, feeling himself almost wanting to vomit as he spat it all out and down into the drain. Looking up to collect water from the shower, vigorously gargling and swishing it in his mouth to get rid of the chunks of meat he felt stuck between his teeth. Repeating it multiple times to be extra thorough.

It lingered for a little while longer, after, and he got out of the shower when it finally stopped. The cold air greeting him.

Drying up and getting back into his room, now seeing that things were still the way they were since he left. Without the haste muddling his mind.

Slowly and as gracefully as a Lakelurk in a whiskey-pool, he flopped onto the sheets of his bed. Feeling the cold cloth hugging to him, but the air warm enough to not need to cover himself. Feeling himself drift closely to sleep from simply lazing into his clean, welcoming bed. Losing his sense of time as he shut his eyes, even with the sun still up and shining over the base. The Waster getting a chance to have his mind go blank and get some real rest.

Soon broken out of his trance when he heard a buzzing noise come through the walls.

'Goddammit,' he growled, sitting up and feeling himself wide-awake, now. 'There it is, again.'

Occasionally, but more frequently than he'd like, Nathan would hear this buzzing noise come from somewhere in the residential wing. It sometimes would occur during morning and sometimes during nights, but was most common during the middle of the day. The volume was always modest and not overbearing, relatively speaking, but its presence was like an annoying gnat that would pester him as it appeared out of nowhere and unannounced. Even then, he would usually ignore it or distract himself until it went away. Not caring enough to even figure out what the hell that noise was and eventually getting to sleep, regardless. That was probably going to change today since his patience had been wearing thin for the past week.

After a few more minutes just sitting still in his bed and listening to the buzzing through the walls, Nathan was finally annoyed enough to get up. Making sure to find a pair of boxers to put on before going out into the hall.

"Nathan, I can-" the base's AI chimed in to help.

"I'm good, Athena," Nathan declined, already halfway out the door. "I want to see to this for myself."

"Very well. Please try to keep things civil."

Hearing that made him frown for a moment, but he just smirked when he left his room. Knowing the response wasn't unwarranted.

Now out into the hallway, the Waster could immediately tell that the noise was coming from his right, further down the hall. Walking in that direction and quickly passing rooms with his large gait, he scanned the doors as he listened to the racket get closer with each step. Much of it sounded electronic and most likely originating from a computer, but occasionally hearing a voice through it. Already getting some ideas on who the culprit was, his suspicions were instantly confirmed when he got in front of the door with the rabbit decal on it.

'Hmph, as if it would be anyone else,' Brin mused to himself, though wondering what she was doing this time. 'She's not playing dress-up with Bastion, again, is she?'

Planting an ear against the door, he could hear electronic music and her voice grating from the other side. Sounding like she was carrying a conversation with someone else in the room. Yet, he didn't hear anyone else talking, just her.

"Thanks for the E$50 donation, LunateLight!  _Jal ga!_ " he heard Song say.

'Donation?' Brin thought, the skin above his nose wrinkling. 'Who is she talking to? Begging for alms, now?'

Whatever was going on in there, Nathan cleared his throat before he lifted his right hand up to the door and giving it some sturdy knocks. He waited, listening to the sound of her room maintain its volume and no one walking up to the door. He knocked, again, putting some more force behind it. Still nothing, the kid seeming too enamored into what she was doing to notice.

"UltraJelly2060 asks: What did I have for breakfast? Why do you guys keep asking what I've been eating?! I'm not that kind of streamer!" he heard the Korean girl then exclaim, sounding disgusted for a second but giggling a second later. "Well, if I didn't have the money, I would be."

Frowning, even more, Nathan let out a disgruntled sigh as he knocked on the door for the third time. When half-a-minute had passed with no response, he grabbed the handle and slid it open. Immediately blinded by glowing computers screens and having his ears irritated by electro-music.

Recoiling from having two of his senses overloaded, Nathan shook his head and his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Looking inside to see her quarters completely dark except for the computer desk on the other side, some of the colorful blue and pink decorations around her room faded. Even having the window completely tinted to block out the sun. The music she was blasting was manageable and didn't deter him from walking inside, though. The kid completely oblivious as she had her back turned to him. When he got closer, he could see on one of the holoscreens that she was "playing" one of those games, sitting idly in her chair as there was an icon in the middle that kept spinning with the words "Searching for Game" followed by an ellipsis.

"Is there any game you're interested in, this year?" Hana read out from one of the other holoscreens, which looked like a data-log that was constantly changing  _very fast_. Completely different every time he blinked. Many of the sentences not even consisting of words, just tiny images of random objects and symbols. Sometimes, cartoon versions of her face.

"Eh, I dunno. The only one I can think of is Mad Battalion 4. My grandpa played Mad Battalion 2 and apparently really liked it," the Gamer answered, rolling her eyes and groaning. "God, it's taking so long to find a match! One downside to being pro…"

Astonished that she was unaware of the six-foot-six man standing right behind her, Nathan rolled his eyes and lifted a finger to tap her shoulder. However, she suddenly leaned forward and got her face close to holoscreen with the chat log. Narrowing her eyes at the words.

"Wait… There's someone behind…Muscles?!"

Hana turned her head over her shoulder, immediately face-to-stomach with Nathan.

He didn't have time to react as Hana let out an ear-piercing shriek and jumped, falling out of her chair. Nathan jumped too, surprised by the loud noise and fast movements produced by the young woman. Wincing as his right ear rang.

"Fuck!" Brin screamed, leaning against the wall as he brought a hand up to his ringing ear.

"Oh my God, dude! What the fuck?!" Song screamed, clutching both her chest and her face. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"You fucking made me deaf! Shit!"

Nathan winced as he stuck his pinky into his ear to take alleviate the ringing, and Hana tried to regulate her breathing as her heartbeat was faster than a spooked rabbit's. All the while, the holoscreen for the chat was erupting with enough "LOLS" and "ㅋㅋㅋ" to fill up a couple of textbooks.

Suddenly, they were rushing feet outside and her room door slid open to reveal Genji, at the ready with his short blade.

"Hana! Is everything okay?! Are you hurt?!" the Cyborg Ninja called out before he jerked his head back and saw what was inside. " _Nani?_ "

"Genji, get out!"

Genji seized up for a second, still very much shocked and confused with what he saw before hurriedly sheathing his blade and making himself scarce, shutting the door.

Being the first to recover, Hana took in a deep breath and climbed back onto her feet using her chair for support. Her hair frazzled, she straightened it out and brushed some loose bangs to the side. First, checking to see if anything broke – on her person and her desk – she took in another breath before addressing the Waster in the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" she questioned, glaring at Nathan.

However, Hana's expression shifted from anger to surprise as she saw the tall Waster was almost naked. Literally, the only piece of clothing on him being a set of boxers that hugged tight to his pelvic area. Almost not leaving much to the imagination. To add on to that, even though it was somewhat dim in her room, she could see some of the light from her desk shining off his torso. Faintly illuminating the chiseled muscles of his abdomen and the mural of scars all over the skin. Never been this close to him like this – not sure if she ever wanted to.

"I came here to ask if you could turn the noise down!" Nathan grumpily exclaimed, retrieving his finger from his ear as he stood upright and took a step forward. Right in front of her computer. "I was able to hear you all the way from my room. What are  _you_  doing?"

Hana glanced to the side to spy on the chat window.

"LOOK AT THOSE GAINZ!"

"dem abs!"

"scars hnnnnnnggg"

"I ain't gay but…"

"y r Overwatch guys soooo hot?!"

"DVA YOU BETTER SHARE!"

Her moderators were going to have a field day with this. At least it wasn't the worst her stream's chat has been.

"Kid, are you hearing me?" Nathan questioned.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah!" Hana then said, brought back to reality, and standing up to address him. Only reaching to his chest and finding it a bit hard to maintain eye-contact. "I'll keep it down. S-sorry…"

From that meek response alone, Nathan could tell something was off as he looked down at the young woman. Noticing how she was avoiding eye-contact by looking to the side or trying to keep her eyes focused purely on his eyes. Her pale cheeks becoming a shade of red beneath those pink whiskers.

'Should've worn a shirt…' the tall Waster silently shamed himself, feeling like a character in some Pre-War weirdo's erotic novel. Believing she was a bit too young for someone like him. He'd rather not feel more disgusted with himself than he already was.

"Kid, are you alright?" he nonetheless asked, somewhat coyly to try and preserve some shame.

"Yeah! Of course, I am! Uh, why would you ask that…?" she hastily responded, doing a terrible job of trying not to seem flustered. So much for being an actress.

"Nothing," he bluntly answered, looking at her computer as he crossed his arms. "I was just wondering what you were doing and why it was so loud."

"I'm streaming."

"…Yup, not sure what that is."

When he admitted that, Hana darted her eyes back at the chat-screen and saw it now being flooded with question marks.

"wut"

"Wait, he doesn't know what streaming is?"

"he doesnt look that old…"

She quickly stepped in front of the computer and blocked her stream's view of her room, muting the audio as well. The chat taking offense to that and reacting accordingly.

"I'll explain it later," Hana hastily said, looking up at him but trying to avoid looking below his neck. A bit difficult when the man towered more than a foot over her. "Can you please leave? I was still in the middle of-"

"Don't worry, I was about to," Nathan tiredly assured, already turning around to leave. "Just remember to keep quiet. Some of us ain't as lively as you in your young age."

"I hope that never happens to me then…" she mutters.

"It'll come quicker than you'd like, kid."

Without another word, the Waster finally walked out of her quarters and the door slid closed behind him. Hana stood there for a while after he left, holding her breath until she let it go with a groan. The Streamer flopped down onto her chair and pivoted back to her desk. Brushing some hair from her face as she affixed her signature pair of headphones onto her head. Being brought back into the realm of her computer, seeing she was still searching for a match and that her chat was still erupting with salacious messages. Looking at the screen and, once again, being disappointed in her fans at the number of spam comments about the man.

"Guys, you literally saw him for about a minute. Why are you immediately shipping us?" she lambasted, rolling her eyes at the screen. "Now,  _that's_  weird!"

Back at Nathan's room, the door quickly snapped open and close when he walked in. The quarters still brightly lit with the sun still up, but Nathan went over and tapped a finger onto the window, dragging it downward and increasing the opaqueness of the window until it was a solid black mirror. More convenient than having to deal with shutters and a string.

With that done, he stepped back and sat down on top of the edge of his bed, relishing in the lowlight. Also, being comforted by the lack of a buzzing coming through the walls, the kid thankfully keeping to her word. However, even with his eyes closed and the lack of disruptions to keep him up, Nathan couldn't feel himself drifting closer to sleep. Feeling a jitter in his step even with the presence of a comfortable bed right next to him. Probably a bit riled after his little chat with Song.

"Goddammit," he muttered under his breath.

After trying to force himself to go to sleep, Brin got up and went over to his pack, still covered in sand and soot. He found his Vault 13 Canteen but was immediately dismayed as he remembered it being empty the last time he took the cap off. He couldn't smoke, either, unless he wanted Athena to start reprimanding him the second he pulled out a pack. With nothing else to help him calm his nerves, he just squatted there in the dark, in his boxers and with an empty flask in hand. Only with the faint glow from his Pip-Boy.

With a disgruntled growl, he got up and went over to his office chair, taking a seat and scooting right up to his desk. Some of the lights automatically illuminating to show all the side projects he's been doing. Pieces of paper with scribbles on them, disassembled equipment that was unclean, and clothing needing to be patched up. Much of it waiting to be finished.

He didn't want to do any of it, wanting to focus on relaxation than work. Yet, what use was lying in bed and getting nothing done? Being useless and contributing nothing. Maybe he did or didn't have to do something. Just keep trying to juggle the options in his head while the opportunity was literally in front of him. Pissing him off as it did.

Odd how he was more certain with what he was doing when he has a gun in his hand.

Yet… He could be of use to someone else.

"Athena," he called out, having her appear right in front of him. Thankfully, the light at a comfortable level.

"Yes, Nathan?" the AI attended to him, immediately.

"Is… Is Dr. Ziegler on base, at the moment?"

"She… Is not, unfortunately. Dr. Ziegler recently deployed on a mission to Central Africa with some of the other agents while you were gone."

Seems like his plans would be postponed, for now.

"…Oh."

"Would you like me to call her? I could set up a connection like last time when you were in Australia."

"It's fine. She might be busy with something important, so I don't want to bother her if she is."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"I would."

Brin sighed as he adjusted himself in his seat, his body leaning against the backrest. His arms crossed as he stared at the desk, his eyes getting lost in the black reflection of the desktop. Sitting there long enough to feel the taste of iron crawl up his throat.

However, he blinked and darted his eyes to the corner of his desk, where a pile of papers and office supplies were. He spotted something poking out from the pile. Reaching over, he plucked a little strip of paper from the middle of the stack and dragged it over to the light. Seeing a set of numbers written on top of it in purple ink that oddly had a fruity smell.

"Whose number is that, Nathan?" Athena asked, her logo hovering over his desk.

"Someone I know, Athena," Nathan responded, looking up at the holoscreen. "Wondering if you could call it?"

* * *

With a series of knocks on a hotel room door, it let in the crisp Mediterranean air and sun when it opened and "María" appeared in the doorway. Dressed in a purple tank top and denim shorts to see "James" standing before her, dressed in a white plain shirt and jeans.

"Hey," the Mexican greeted with a sly smile.

"Hey," the Californian greeted back, his expression not really changing.

The two stared at each other, standing in the doorway for several silent moments.

* * *

The air in the room had quickly become hot and humid, even with a window open to the sea. The sounds of the waves and the seabirds unable to be heard from inside the hotel room as a portable wireless-speaker on a nightstand blasted techno music. The songs being played were rhythmically simple, softly grating to the ear, dominated by a deep bass, and repetitive with a constant beat. The Waster, surprisingly, couldn't care less about the music being played and found it to be somewhat fitting to what he was doing. Their moaning and breathing even going along with the tune at times. It provided an interesting ambiance as they fucked.

Feeling the sweat sticking to him and the breath from his mouth chill around his face, as he thrust forward. Looking down to see María looking up at him, her back against the mattress and her head comfortably resting against a puffy pillow. Her mouth open, as well, watching and listening to her breathe as he kept going. Sometimes feeling her hot breath blow against his chest and neck, making it feel cool for a moment. Her left hand clutching the pillow while the other held onto the arm he used to support himself, grabbing the skin right above the Pip-Boy.

Nathan looked at her breasts, watching them bounce every time he pushed. Getting a little mesmerized as they moved in conjunction with each other like twins. Her dark-brown nipples fully erect into the air and the goosebumps in and around her areolas starting to pop up. With his right hand, he reached down and grabbed a hearty handful of her left-tit, giving it a good squeeze, and feeling it mush warmly under his palm. Playing with it for a bit before he then wrapped his thumb and index finger around her nipple, simultaneously rubbing and twisting it.

" _¡Ay!_ " María sharply inhaled, pushing her head into her pillow and tightening her grip on both her hands.

Nathan glanced at her face, before letting go of her tit and craning his neck down to latch onto the nipple with his mouth. Gently sucking on it and circling his tongue around it, sometimes brushing his teeth against it. His beard stimulating the flesh around it, incidentally.

Regardless, the Latina moaned more noises of pleasure as she let go of his arm and the pillow to plant her hands on his head, clutching the back of his head and digging her fingers through his hair. Nathan continued sucking on her for a little longer, applying a bit more force every time he let go. María feeling the air chill around her breast before being enveloped by a warm pair of lips, making her shudder and dig her fingers deeper into his head.

Unfortunately for her, it wouldn't last as he lets go of her nipple. She frowned a little, looking down to see his mouth hovering above her chest and feeling his breath chill against her skin. However, the man's head glided over her body and went over to the side of her neck, making her wince as she feels him pinch her skin between his teeth but occasionally sucking at it. Her body getting hot at her hips and her neck. Her hands drifting down onto the nape of his neck and wrapping her fingers around it, feeling the heat steaming off his skin. Almost digging her nails into him as he suddenly jumped up and bit at the nub of her ear, tugging at the large black ear pinned to it.

"Why is that so big?" the Californian asked for a second, before returning to her neck.

"Why are you asking?" the Mexican asked back in between moans, still holding onto him. "Don't tell me that's – ah! – going to kill the mood for you, huh?"

"Nope."

However, what almost did kill the mood was her phone on the nightstand ringing, the ringtone almost as loud as the music. Nathan growled as he rose his head up to look at it, but María quickly reached over at swiped at the screen. Making it go silent.

"That was the third time this hour," Nathan observed. "You sure it ain't important?"

"It's work… But it can wait," María responded, biting her lip as her hands drifted across the muscles along his torso and arms. Feeling them tauten and move.

He scoffed, but wouldn't protest it any further. Not the only one needing an escape from things.

Taking a break from making hickeys on her neck, Nathan cranes his head and looks down to watch himself thrust his erect cock into her. Feeling it get invited into her warm pussy and being pulled out into the colder air. Her sweaty, toned body quivering every time he plunged forward. The condom he wore covered in a liquid sheen. Such a repetitive, yet satisfying, action. One hell of a sight, too, drifting a hand over her stomach.

"Want me to record it for you?" his partner asked, looking to where he was and seeing the meaty thing get plunged inside her. Feeling the warm cock rub against the walls of her vagina and press against her. All the lubricant making it easy and smooth for him to guide through without missing a step. Her music providing a pleasurable rhythm.

"I'll hold you to that," her partner responded with a smirk, looking back at it, again.

Then, as he continued what he was doing, he felt María's grip around him stiffen. Her body twitching and quivering somewhat more erratically, and her breathing becoming slightly more ragged than usual. Her purple nails digging further into his skin. Fully aware of what that meant, Nathan thrust himself into her harder and faster, breathing rapidly and hearing their hips slapping against each other echo more prominently throughout the hotel room. She began to moan louder and brought one hand down to her pussy, stimulating the outside while his cock worked inside. Finally, María let out a yelp and grabbed him as she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on him. Nathan hovering over her, erect penis still in her and holding it there as she finished. Feeling her left hand practically choke the back of his neck. Unable to move for a few moments.

" _Ay, Papi_ …" the Latina tiredly let out as she gently laid back on the pillow and held his head in her hands. Palms over his cheeks, staring into his eyes with a dreamy look.

However, that grin disappeared when she looked down to see him still inside her with a fully-erect cock. Clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

" _¡Ay, pobrecito!_ " she teased, looking back up at him. "You didn't finish? Tsk, let me take care of that for you…"

Sitting up and pulling herself from his cock, María went up to him and gently pushed him down so he lay largely flat on the bed. His cock upright in the air, she got to eye level with the tip. Grabbing the base of his shaft with one hand and removed the condom with the other. Before doing anything else with it, she crawled over to his face and bent down to plant a long, sensual kiss on his lips. The two holding their heads close to each other, her lights glowing off his hair. Finally separating with a resounding smack, she crawled back to his legs and grabbed his member, again. Starting by planting a quaint little kiss on the tip, sending a shiver up his spine.

"I really needed this…" the Waster said, sounding out of breath, and watching as she adjusted her stance to get her face closer to his dick.

"I was about to say the same thing," she responded, stroking him as she guided her tongue across one side of the shaft up to the tip. "Work's been driving me crazy and I wouldn't be surprised if the same can be said for you. You sounded kind of tense over the phone. Wanna talk about it?"

"Nah. No offense, but I'd rather let this happen. You sucking my dick, I mean."

"Aww, really?" she asked, pouting as she kept stroking him. He shrugged, and after a few moments of silence from him, she rolled her eyes. "Typical."

Despite that, the logistics analyst eventually got tired of just stroking and giving the occasional peck on the tip and decided to wrap her lips around him. Gently sucking on the head and coasting the tip of her tongue over him. Nathan threw his head back and curled his fingers when she did that, getting a feel for her without a layer of latex over his cock. She peered up at the recipient, smirking with a cock on her lip before taking in more of his shaft.

All the stuff they've been doing inside that hotel room for the past hour was probably the highlight of their week, most definitively for Nathan. Especially after all the shit he's had to deal with for the past couple of days, where tobacco and alcohol have proven to be insufficient to help. Just taking a moment to enjoy and relax, something he's had plenty of trouble trying to come through with. Apparently, all he needed was a blowjob, among other things. He was a simple human being, at times.

For now, he laid there and enjoyed being sucked him off, sensing the Latina's grip get stronger as she dove deeper onto his shaft. Peering up to see her eyes closed and completely entranced with what she was doing. Bobbing her head and not missing a step, only having to pause to brush some of her purple highlights to the side. Watching and feeling his cock get enveloped in the warmth of her mouth.

She paused, however, when her phone started ringing from the nightstand for the fourth time, letting go of his dick with a  _pop_  to look at it. Nathan frowned when he looked up and was about to tell her to ignore it, but then watched as she reached over to her nightstand. Going back to his dick with the phone in one hand.

"What are you…?"

" _¿Qu_ _é onda?_ " she answered, holding the phone to her left ear as she went back to sucking his dick.

Seeing that made Nathan's heart skip a beat and he was about to rocket up from the bed, but María reached over and planted her right hand on his chest. Stopping him from going up any further. With his tip at her mouth, she smiled and gave him a playful wink before going back to pleasing him. Dragging her finger across his chest, across his stomach, and back to his groin. The man still a bit uneasy as he could hear a voice from the other end on her phone, unaware of what was happening on theirs.

"No, I'm not doing anything important, right now," she spoke into her phone, making him glare at her for a second. Only giggling as she planted another little kiss on his shaft.  _"¿Qu_ _é_ _?_  That noise? I was sucking on some candy –  _Vero –_  before you called. Rather rude of you to interrupt,  _viejo_."

The phone call went on for a while, longer than Nathan would've liked. However, he couldn't help but feel a certain thrill bubbling up from this act. Covertly having sex as someone was on the other line, completely unaware the person they were speaking with was gobbling on a man's cock. Never having done anything quite like this. The closest to this he's done was banging someone while her parents were still in the house – narrowly avoiding a shotgun wedding. The difference here is that the caller could've been anywhere in the world. That concept getting stranger the more he thought about it, but kind of getting hotter.

Unfortunately, his thoughts were interrupted as he began to feel a tension grow at the base of his groin, starting to twitch under her grip. Still on the phone, María felt that and looked at Nathan, seeing him gesture to his dick. She knew what that meant, but instead of letting go, she tightened her grip around him and began to pump her hand even faster. The man grimaced and sat up when she plunged down onto him, again, and began sucking harder than she did before. Still keeping that phone on her ear and letting out muffled "mhmm's" and "uh-uh's" as the caller went on, the vibration of her voice making it worse. Finally, after building up for longer than planned, the man gasped and grabbed both sides of her head when he started ejaculating. The woman having her eyes closed and letting his warm cum flood into her mouth, holding the phone in one hand and jerking more of the cum out with the other.

After feeling everything either rush out or get sucked out, Nathan lets go and sat back, the waves of his orgasm rushing through him as he caught his breath. María was still lying next to his dick, peering up at him and opening her mouth to show all the cum pooling in her mouth. A bit tasteless, but it brought an amused chuckle to him. She chuckled too, going to the nightstand, retrieving a glass, and spitting his load out into it.

"What was that?" she asked, putting the glass back on the stand and wiping her hand across her mouth. "Oh, no. Something just got stuck in my teeth from the candy… Yes, I listened to everything you just said, don't get so worked up over it!"

As she continued having her conversation, Nathan crawled to the front of the bed and tiredly laid his head onto the pillows. At first staring up at the ceiling, but then drifting his eyes to María's back. That metal spine glowing and illuminating the curves of her back and ass in a shade of purple.

"Yes, I'll call you if anything comes up. I'm not stupid," she went on, sitting down next to him. " _Bien… ¡Bien!_ Okay, okay…! Bye, Gabe!"

With a sigh, she tapped her screen and ended the conversation. Placing it back on the nightstand next to the glass of cum.

" _¡Huy, dios mío!_ " she muttered under her breath, flopping down to bed next to him.

"Who was that?" he asked, looking down at her.

"My boss… Been a real pain in my ass, recently. I like him, but he takes work too seriously. You probably wouldn't like him."

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

For a while after, the two laid on the hotel room bed next to each other, their naked bodies still hot and sweaty. Staring up at the ceiling as her wireless speaker kept playing music. "James" could feel his heart thump before reverting to a calmer tempo. Both hands on his stomach and feeling his chest slowly rise and fall with every breath he took – also at a calmer state.

Brin hadn't thought about it while they were fucking, of course, but he started to wonder if he should make it back to the Watchpoint as soon as he could now they were finished. Having gotten what he wanted and relieving the stress that's been building up – maybe somewhat  _literally_  in this case – he couldn't see any other reason for sticking around. Something might be happening back at the base that needed his attention, and it felt odd that he spent his free time fucking some  _chica_  he's met only a few times before. It didn't feel wrong, but he wouldn't want to be caught like this by any of them… Again.

"What about you?" María abruptly asked, turning on her side to face him and huddling up to his right arm. "Want to complain about work now or still no?"

Nathan looked down to see a set of purple eyes tiredly staring up at him. Resting her head against his bicep and wrapping her arm around it like a pillow. The man just watching her as she shifted and adjusted herself in bed, trying to snuggle up close to him. The room starting to get colder as the humidity began to clear up and the window was still open. A calmness coming over the air. That was when he noticed the speaker on the nightstand had stopped playing electronic noise and he heard the strumming of an acoustic guitar, with a fast yet constant tempo that made it easy to listen along to. Accompanied by a lone trumpet and the rattling of what sounded like beads. Not expecting the woman with neon lights grafted to her cranium to have such taste in music.

Brin having listened to similar things from a Mexican Ghoul around campfires, but just with a guitar.

" _No se…_ " the New Californian sighed, getting more comfortable in bed and wrapping his right arm around her. "I've got plenty of stuff to bitch about but… Don't you have somewhere to be? Especially with whatever was on that phone call?"

"Eh, I've still got time," the Mexican shrugged, yawning as she buried her head into his chest. "If you don't want to talk about anything, I guess we can just relax, for now…"

"Yeah…" he responded, his eyelids starting to feel heavy after getting little sleep over the past couple of days. Still feeling the exhaustion and jet lag from Australia racking his brain. His brain further racked from having sex. "I guess we can."

The old Wastelander starting to feel quite content with where he was, now. The woman with neon lights not complaining much, either.

* * *

Hana Song sat in the communal breakroom of the Watchpoint; a little kitchen area with tables, chairs, and outfitted with a toaster, sink, and fridge. It was mostly empty save for her, sitting at one of the tables and lazily swiping away at her phone with one hand and holding a steaming cup of cocoa with the other. She didn't want to go to sleep, didn't even feel tired in the slightest. Just sitting there bored, the young woman looking at social media posts she had made while her headphones played music. Almost tuning out the rest of the world.

Coming down from the hall, skates ground against the floor and passed by the breakroom in a green-blue blur. However, the grinding stopped and slowly retraced its steps until Lúcio appeared at the doorway, peering inside to see Hana at a table and all by herself. The DJ frowned, instantly knowing something was up.

Looking to both sides of the hallway to see no one else coming, he slowly skated in and went up to her table. Hana not even noticing he was in the room until a couple of feet away. Jumping as soon as she looked up from her phone.

"Lúcio, geez!" she exclaimed, holding a hand to her heart.

"Sorry, Hana!" he shrank, holding out a hand. "Didn't mean to scare you."

The DJ stood there for a while, watching her clutch her chest and making sure everything was okay. A few moments after, she calmed down and became more relieved with the new company. Seeing she had loosened up a bit, he sat down at the chair opposite of her.

"What do you want, Lúc?" Song asked, taking off her headphones.

"I just wanted to check in on you. See what's up," he answered with a tilt of his head. "What are you doing here, anyway? Ain't you supposed to be streaming?"

"I was, but I decided to take a break and cut the stream off early."

"Why?"

"I guess that means you didn't watch it?"

"Haven't gotten around to it. What happened?"

Hana glanced up at him for a second, her cheeks seeming bashful, before looking down at her phone. Lúcio's gaze drifted downward, too, seeing the image of a young woman in a pink tank top wearing a helmet too big for her size. The red-eyes casting lens-flare across her camera.

"Well, a certain somebody rudely interrupted my stream and scared me in front of a million viewers," the Korean Streamer explained, angrily sipping her hot cocoa. "Made the chat explode and I'm pretty sure there's going to be memes coming out in the next couple of hours. So, that's great."

"With the way you made it sound, that actually sounds kind of funny," Lúcio smirked, but still confused on why she seemed upset. "And I thought you didn't mind goofing off a little in your streams? Who was it?"

"It was Nathan, and he came in to ask if I could turn the noise down."

"And that's a problem?"

"No, but coming into my room unannounced practically naked and standing in front of the camera for everyone to see kind of was. Along with my chat shipping us."

Hana winced when she said that aloud and Lúcio just stared at her, blank faced. Then, after an air of silence, Lúcio's cheeks suddenly puffed up and his lips curled to contain his laughter. Ultimately failing when his mouth opened. The Streamer frowned at him, but couldn't really do anything other than stamp her foot in annoyance when the Musician just kept laughing. Not gut-busting, but seeing the humor in her "unfortunate" situation.

"Sorry, but that is kind of funny! I didn't know you were that kind of streamer," Lúcio said, but still furrowing his brow. "Though, even then I feel like that isn't something to get so worked up about. What gives?"

"Well…" DVa began, yet still a little unsure to continue. A little scared to share more of the details, even with a friend like Lúcio. Yet, he didn't  _have_ to walk in and check on her, so she felt some obligation to explain herself.

"After he left, and I didn't want to stream anymore, I just went out of my room and tried to find something else to do. Keep myself busy, you know? But Angela was away on a mission and Nana Ana was busy helping deal with those…  _Weirdos_ … And I didn't have anything else to keep my mind off him."

"'Him'? You mean Nathan? Are you-?"

"No, not like  _that_!" the young woman adamantly dismissed, then calming down and sipping her cocoa. "It's just the way he acts and the things he does are… I don't know. I'm just trying to wrap my head around it."

"So, you don't interact with him much? Don't get to know him?"

"I do, but even then, it seems like I haven't even scratched the surface. Where he got all those scars or how he's learned to do the things he does? Angie talks to him a lot, but she doesn't want to talk about it with me."

"Hmm, I hear ya'," the Brazilian DJ empathized, frowning a little. "When I got here, it seemed like I could chat with anyone here and become steadfast buds, barring a few exceptions. But Nathan? He saved my life, helped us save Numbani, took a beating that would kill most people, and he's still a tough nut to crack. Even Toblerone was more talkative at times than him."

"Uh, do you mean Torbjörn?"

The two began to laugh with each other after the obvious mispronunciation of the Swedish dwarf's name. Sharing a little moment for a while in the quiet break room. Things eventually simmered back down, and they were brought back to the discussion about the other grumpy, but much taller middle-aged man with a beard.

"Still, something's gotta give, right?" Lúcio asked, regarding Hana. "I mean, I don't even know where's he's from. Do you?"

Song went silent when he asked that, knowing the answer fully well but also knowing how delicate the information was. Something she was not about to share so lightly with a friend, nonetheless a fellow celebrity. Even she knew when it was appropriate to run her mouth off and when it wasn't.

"Kind of," she admitted, but leaving out a lot of details. "He says he's from California… But the discussion doesn't really get beyond that. Some of us are even skeptical if that's where he's really from. Me…? I guess."

"That's a shame," Lúcio stated, clicking his tongue. "Hmm, I was about to ask if you knew where he was, but it seems pretty obvious we wouldn't have a clue, right now… Hey, how 'bout we go find something else to do to take the edge off? Maybe something that'll cheer you up? I heard Bastion might have something to say."

Song looked up at him, cradling an almost empty mug and boringly holding her head up with one arm. She smiled quaintly, those pink whiskers of hers stretching a little.

"How about you let me take a sneak-peak at your next album?"

"Sure, we can do that, too!"

"Awesome!" the young woman accepted, hoping to find something that'll take her mind off things, for now. Yet, still occasionally thinking about the New Californian. Wondering if he was able to go back to sleep.


	46. Something New Under the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! Sorry I've been silent this past couple of months, school has been hell and there was no way I could've anticipated it being like this, but I at least got this chapter out. I'm probably going to be silent a bit longer until the semester is done, and hopefully, we can get back to a much more regular schedule.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you still enjoy!

 

Ilios, Greece

2076

The porcelain-white square for this town hanging over the sea was bustling. A market of stalls set up around the square, the vendors trying to sell their goods to anyone passing within a few feet of them. Cheap trinkets or souvenirs with exorbitantly high markup prices, from little plastic busts of Greek historical figures to little seashells that weren't from the sea a stone's throw away. Granted, they weren't targeting fellow locals, just the myriad of tourists visiting their oceanside home. Humans and Omnics walking around and almost seeming lost, either enamored by the stunning sea vista off the cliff or the clean blue-and-white limestone architecture that was this town's gimmick. The tourists helping themselves to whatever amenities this town and its people were more than happy to offer.

Nonetheless, they seemed to be enjoying themselves and the view wasn't half-bad, but how would Nathan know? He couldn't just sightsee from where he was, stuck in the lighthouse, even as he peered through his Karabiner's scope.

"Lighthouse still clear," he said, firmly hugging the stock.

Nathan had been up there for the better part of the day, setting up shop not long before the vendors did. Being tasked to provide a watchful eye on the crowd and wait. Boring but peaceful, with the noise of the crowd and the square below him.

Too bad his "spotter" was too preoccupied with holo-games on her phone, just a couple of feet behind him and sitting against her pink tank. Nathan got used to it by that time.

Her thumbs rapidly tapped against the screen as Hana stared at pixelated figures, the game glowing and flashing off her face in the dim light of the lighthouse. After a few more seconds and hi-scores broken, the level ended and congratulated her for her accomplishments.

"I'm bored…" she groaned, throwing her head back.

"Uh huh," Nathan acknowledged, again.

Hana frowned at him, only being met with the back of his shirt.

"What? You're not?" she questioned.

"We've only been here for a few hours," he responded.

"Exactly!"

He just glanced over his shoulder.

"Kid, if you can't silently stay still for just a couple of hours, you've got a problem," Nathan admitted, eyes back on the square. "You've barely looked up from your phone since we got here."

"Oh, come on, you're not even a little bit bored?" Hana questioned further. "Sitting on that box all day?"

"I've worked with military snipers, before. This is kinda what they do. Just sit in place for a long ass time and wait for whatever they're waiting for to pop up. I'm sure your 'grandma' can attest to this. And besides, ain't you military?"

"Yeah, but I'm a mech pilot, I'm supposed to be knee deep in the action at a mission's notice! Not sit around and do nothing while I'm still wearing my suit. And you worked with military snipers? Who?"

"…A friend of mine."

Hana waited for a bit more elaboration with who that friend was but only got more silence from him. She went back to playing another level of the game on her phone.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't keep her entertained long as she felt that lump growing in the back of her throat, again. The feeling where she was stuck in a place for too long. Something that felt all too familiar from her time being stationed at Busan. Almost wanting to close out of the game entirely and find something else to keep her occupied. Hearing seabirds outside the window of where they were, she saw the clear blue-sky. Almost feeling some of the cool air blow in and ease the stuffiness.

"Sucks that I can't go outside," she lamented, hearing the market below. "The only time I visit Ilios and I'm stuck in a lighthouse."

"Greece is practically in the same climate as Gibraltar," Nathan responded. "Weather's not that different."

"I know, but there's the local culture, the food, the people! Don't you want to experience stuff like that?"

"Nope."

Hana frowned at that response, seeing she was not really getting anywhere with him on that topic. Not really making much progress in the past hour with him. She thought about continuing the conversation or even moving to an entirely different subject, but they still had a mission, so maybe she'll try something later. Keeping it in the back of her mind as she exited out of her game and decided to web surf for now.

More time had passed, Nathan keeping an eye on the town square and Hana keeping her eyes on her phone. After watching tourist after tourist make their way through the white square – mothers scolding their children, couples walking with clasped hands, or poor fools getting swindled into buying a keychain – he fidgeted a little and reaffirmed his grip on his rifle. After another couple of minutes of sitting still, Nathan narrowed his eyes underneath his mask and felt a jitter in his leg.

He sat up abruptly and took his helmet off, resting it on a box.

"Hey, kid. You're bored, right?" Brin called out, pivoting in his seat, keeping the rifle pointed out the window. "Come here."

Hana looked up from her phone for once and looked at him. "What?"

"Got something else for you to do."

She perked an eyebrow, looking at the rifle and him. Taking one more glance at her phone, she turned it off as she got up and stepped over to Nathan. The large man got off the box and gestured for her to take it. She did, still unsure what Nathan wanted her to do.

"Still remember how to hold it?" he asked, handing the rifle to her.

"Yeah," she said, feeling the stock dig into her shoulder as she wrapped her hands around the stock. "Forgot how heavy this thing is."

"Good, let's get you reacquainted. Keep your finger off the trigger and don't mess with anything on the rifle, for now. Just get used to handling that thing. Remember what our target looks?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Good, cause you'll be providing the watch from now on."

"What? Why me?!"

"What? You can't do it?"

Hana peered to the left and glared at the large man, before pouting and looking down at the rifle. Feeling the old wood brush against her hands. The rifle looked much larger when up against her smaller frame, but the kid still made due. Thankfully having something to rest it upon.

"Alright, see the scope?"

"It's literally right in front of my face, dude."

"Good, you can't miss it, then. Look through the scope and try to get a clear sight-picture. Don't be afraid to move around."

With those instructions, the Mech Pilot leaned forward and brought her eye right up to the scope. Half of her face wrinkling as she shut one eye. Thinking back to First-Person Shooters, again.

"If you wanted to give yourself a black eye, you're on the right path," Nathan bluntly commented, watching as he stood over her. "Don't bring your face right up against the scope, kid. Give it some space for recoil. Also, keep both eyes open."

"Why?"

"It's unneeded. It'll just mess with your vision and distract you. You'll get used to it."

"Oookay…" Song said, looking back to the rifle and resting her painted cheek on the stock.

Her eye was farther away from the telescopic sight, but now able to see through the scope. The image was clear despite being such an old sight, and she did feel more comfortable not having to scrunch up one-half of her face. Taking some time for her vision to adjust.

"Huh, I can see clearly now," she admitted, drifting the scope over the square. Now keeping a lookout for their target.

"Good, good," Nathan said, stepping back as she got more comfortable with the rifle. "Might as well learn something you're at it."

As she occupied herself with her new role, the Waster stepped back from the window and leaned against the wall, right next to her mech. With his hands now free, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes. Wasting no time popping one into his mouth and igniting it with his lighter. Even with her headphones on, Hana could hear the click and flick of his lighter, and eventually the smell of burning two-hundred-year-old tobacco.

"Eww!" the young woman audibly expressed, her face scrunching up. "You know those are bad for you!"

Hana sat up from the rifle and fanned the air in front of her nose. She turned around to glare daggers at him but saw him standing still against the wall, like a stone. Almost as still when he was manning the sniper. Few times where she's seen him like this. Barely moving a centimeter, that cigarette as stiff as a board even when he puffed smoke, his eyes closed as if to savor every cloud, his beefy arms steady and crossed over his large chest, and the lowlight from the windows casting shadows off the muscles under his shirt without a duster to-

Song blinked and caught herself, shaking her head for a second and going back to the old rifle. To try and keep herself occupied. Shrinking into the scope.

Nathan felt his nerves calm with the surge of nicotine in his system, able to get his bearings better. Not be entirely bored out of his mind.

" _Zzzzoooorrrbbbaaa!_ "

That sudden yell from the crowd made him blink and he looked to the window. Stepping over to see what that noise was about.

It was a man with a guitar, posted by the planter that was between the two staircases. He was accompanied by two other men, holding stringed instruments of their own that weren't guitars, but they were all acoustic.

They were currently playing a melody that was a simple, rhythmic strumming of their instruments, with one them playing some quick, snappy motifs in between the guitarist's strums. It was catchy, but that wasn't what caught the Waster's attention.

" _Bravo!_ "

It was then that he also noticed that much of the crowd around the square began to clap in unison with the music, slowly and calmly at first. With all their attention directed to the center of the square, he saw a man was dancing there with plenty of space around him, his arms stretched out and making his legs do these slow kicks and taps. However, the music began to increase in tempo, the crowd's claps and the man's steps mirroring that. People from the crowd, both local and tourist, slowly began to join him and mimic his steps. The tourists trying their best.

"…What…?"

He heard shuffling next to him and saw Hana pull her phone up and point the back of it to the square. A video feed of the square itself appearing on the screen. Her face lighting up the entire time.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Taking a video!"

"…On that?"

"Yeah! Oh man, I wish I was down there, though!"

Nathan narrowed his eyes, then snapped his head back to the dancers to see that there was more of them, and they began to dance a bit more frantically with the music. The strings becoming twangier, higher-pitched, and more energetic. He watched as the dancers suddenly crouched low to the ground and clap their hands together, yelling "Zorba", before up to their feet.

"…Huh…  _Audax,_ " the Wastelander uttered. "But can you mind the rifle?"

"Ugh, fine!" Hana relented, but suddenly jutting the phone up to him. "Can  _you_  at least record this? And keep it horizontal, will you?"

He stared at the device for a second before grabbing it. His eyes scrutinizing the tiny display. Silently surprised by how clear and smooth everything looked. On the right side of the screen, he saw tick marks that weren't too dissimilar from marks on a telescopic sight. Out of curiosity, he brought a finger over and tapped on it, the display suddenly magnified. The Wastelander was surprised at first but noted how even at this magnification things still looked clear. Impressed, he began panning the small device's camera all over the square and testing the "zoom" option he discovered.

He didn't say anything else as more moving things entered his line of sight. However, the show incidentally cleared up a lot of space on the ground, so he had an easier time shifting his sight picture from corner to corner. The middle of the square not nearly as much of a priority now unless their target liked dancing. His trigger-finger tapping along the phone's pink case.

Finally, by the time the mob had formed circles and began spinning around the square, Nathan spotted who they were looking for with the help of the mobile phone. It was a man with a suit as white as the limestone and sunglasses as glossy as the plastic trinkets. He was on the outer edges of the performance, watching the whole thing unfold. Nathan couldn't see anything below his chest, but the phone's camera made it clear it was who they were looking.

"Target spotted. Northeast corner of the square. Edge of the crowd," he alerted, tapping Hana's shoulder to keep her focused. "What now?"

"Wait," Ana Amari's voice spoke into his ear, yet she was nowhere to be seen. "We can't risk alerting the entire town."

"I don't know. The crowd seems pretty distracted, right now. Anything else we can pull off?"

"Leave it to us," a third voice said, belonging to Genji. Also nowhere to be seen.

Nathan raised an eyebrow at the response but opted to stay silent and keep the phone on target. Puffing more smoke from the corner of his mouth. However, he could hear Song's slight gasp after Genji spoke. Making sure not to chuckle from that.

Nathan could see the man still watching the performance in the square. Watching how he bobbed his head to the music and even had a little smile as he watched the spectacle. The dancing circle spinning even faster, people with their arms locked over each other's shoulders and kicking the air in front of them. The strings happily strumming away faster than the Mediterranean breeze.

"Be a shame to interrupt this party," the New Californian admitted, tapping his trigger finger to the beat. "Music ain't half-bad."

"I thought you hated music?" Hana blurted out, looking up at him.

"When the hell did I say  _that?_ "

"You never seem to like any music that's playing around you. Lena said so."

"Yeah, the electronic shit I can't stand."

"Then what can you stand?"

Nathan's eyes drifted from the phone for a second.

"Anything with real instruments. Real people. Easy and pleasant to my ears. Classics. At least, from my world."

Hana looked at 40-year-old Waster, now learning what his tastes in music were. Immediately, her mind raced to what that could've meant, and a few ideas popped into her head. Wondering if Lúcio could help her given he's a musician.

She would have to put off her plan, for now, as they noticed some movement to the side. A hooded figure with his head to the ground speedily walked over to the square, making his way to the man in the suit. Then, from the opposite direction of his path, another hooded figure appeared from a doorway and made his way towards the outer reaches of the crowd, also towards the man in white. A quiver with a blue strap hanging from his back.

Nathan growled lowly as he sighted the baggy black sweater of the second figure but kept his temper cool enough to keep the frame steady.

It wasn't long until the first figure finally reached the man and only bumped into him before being on the rest of his way. The target lost his smile and tried to catch a glimpse of the hooded figure, before also being bumped into by the second, also being on his merry way. He yelled at them, unable to be heard over the street performance and the crowd. After standing there for a few moments, however, the man's expression changes and look down to pat his pockets. Nathan seeing him look up with eyes as white as the ground. Without another word, the target ran from the crowd and towards to where the second hooded figure went. Following him to a few alleyways, away from the crowd and music. A few seconds later, the concert in the square ended with a raucous strumming, and the dancing stopping and throwing their arms into the air.

" _Zorba!"_

Loud cheering and clapping from all over the square followed. Even from people watching from balconies and open windows. However, as everyone scattered from the dance floor or thanked the band, the rest of the team waited for a response.

" _Sparrow_ , what's your status?" Morrison then called out over comms, probably not too far from Ana.

Static filled the air for a couple of seconds, but they eventually went live with Genji's voice. Accompanied by the sound of someone getting the shit beaten out of them.

"Target… Acquired!" Genji confirmed in between sounds of a fist hitting a gut. Presumably his fist. "We will meet you at the rendezvous. He should have the info we need."

"Good job, dear," Ana congratulated. "Everyone else, move out."

Nathan was already way ahead of her as he handed back the phone and got his rifle. Taking one last, hearty drag from his cigarette as he stepped over to Hana's mech. The pink machine now on its feet with its pilot in the cockpit, instruments inside and around her flashing to life.

"Finally!" the MEKA pilot exclaimed, getting her "war" face on.

"Hmph, the  _brother_  proved himself useful. Good," Brin noted, tossing the burnt-up cigarette and stamping it.

With his helmet now firmly fitted over his head, the tall Wastelander clambered over the pink mech and sat on top. Grabbing ahold of whatever he could on the large machine.

Then, with a sudden jolt, the pink mech went off flying from the other side of the lighthouse and over the cliffside. Beginning to make its way to the other side of the Greek island. Thankfully, the sound of the square market enough to mask the noise of the agents flying off.

* * *

Atop the island, there lay ancient ruins of limestone and marble that have been seated for thousands of years. Temples dedicated to gods from a by-gone era built by a by-gone generation. A civilization more by-gone than most. Despite their age, there was still great value to be had in these crumbling remnants of an old world. Mainly historical value, seeing if these ancient artifacts would shed any light on the past. An intellectual pursuit practically mandatory in this part of the world, even for tourists. Unfortunately, the current visitors hardly seemed interested in the histories as they moved around the ruins with boxes of stolen goods.

"Move it! We gotta be out of here before anyone comes looking for these two!" a Talon officer barked as he stood in the middle of the site, two hostages bound and gagged a couple of feet behind him. Curators for the internationally protected heritage site.

The officer looked at them before grumbling and looking back to his holopad.

Around him, Talon agents in jumpsuits boxed up and moved crates of priceless Greek artifacts, getting them ready for transport. Most likely to whoever was the highest bidder. Things were running smoothly, and it was mainly just time they were running against, but moving a bunch of old, dusty vases and busts was a dull operation. Mainly having his head buried in his holopad as he checked off boxes on a list. He had a few more grievances regarding this mission, mainly an associate of theirs not being present.

"It's been two fucking hours, where the hell is that lazy bastard?" he questioned, grumbling as he looked at the time on his holopad. "I swear, it's always the rich, stuck-up bastards who are never on time. This is a waste."

"Yes, sir," a foot soldier responded, guarding the two hostages.

"I even gave the dumb bastard a notice in advance and his worthless ass still couldn't bother showing up."

"Yes, sir."

"I mean, isn't this what Ogundimu  _didn't_  want? I thought we were done with this."

"Yes, sir."

"But he doesn't have daddy's money anymore, so now we're peddling old centerpieces to keep our operations up. Unless they 'neglected' to tell me something else. Ain't that some shit?"

Turning around, the officer nearly dropped his holopad as he found himself alone in the square. The soldier nowhere to be found and only the two hostages, still tied up but equally as wide-eyed as him.

"What the… Oh, shit! Everyone, we've got company!" the officer called out, pulling out his sidearm and immediately pointing it at the hostages.

However, instead of getting a flurry of responses from his men, he only received radio-silence as he heard faint screaming and yelling from across the ruins. Hearing his men get taken out, but no gunshots echoing across the mountainside.

"What the fuck…?!" he gasped as the muzzle of his pistol trembled towards his hostages. His only form of leverage in this situation. "Is there anyone fucking there?!"

Unfortunately, he got his answer an invisible hand grabbed his wrist and forcefully twisted the barrel of his pistol and planted it right on the bottom of his chin. He froze in shock as he felt both of his arms locked in position by someone much stronger, seeing the air shimmer right in front of him.

"Don't piss me off," the Courier's voice growled into his ear, the cloaking shield fizzled away.

However, after he said that, a group of Talon soldiers came running up to the square and stopped right at the edge to see their CO being held up. Quickly, they lined and took aim with their rifles, but something whistled through the air with enough strength and precision to shatter and knock their weapons out of their hands. An arrow embedding itself into the wall adjacent to them. Not giving them a second to recuperate, the pink mech flew into all of them and knocked them to the ground. DVa landing on the ground next to them with a thud and heavy guns in their faces.

Then, the officer had the gun taken out from under his chin and was pushed to the ground. With his hands still bound and his own gun pointed at his temple. An armored knee digging into his back. Barely able to move with the large man keeping him in line.

Meanwhile, Nathan watched and listened as Talon agents left and right were being taken out by his teammates. Not really having to do anything as he knelt and watched the mission unfold. He could've helped speed the process up, but he felt fine where he was. At least the kid was holding her own.

There was more screaming from the ruins near them, and they looked up to watch one of the silver-domed goons be thrown across the air and crashing a few feet from them. Dazed, he tried to get up but collapsed to the ground as someone landed atop of him, thoroughly incapacitating him. He quickly rolled off and readied his bow, as if expecting him to retaliate. After a few moments, he relieved pressure from his bow and breathed.

"Hmph, not bad," Soldier: 76 commented, hopping down from the catwalk and walking over to the man he hurled. "But I wasn't done with him."

"I'm sorry, I just wish to be thorough," the Shimada Archer responded, examining his arrow. "I wouldn't wish to disappoint anyone."

Hanzo glanced at Nathan but saw he was too busy roughing up their new hostage.

"Not bad for your first excursion with us," his brother walked up to him, placing a metallic hand on his shoulder. "I knew you would help do some good."

"I hoped. At least retribution had reached this lot," Hanzo stated, looking down at the pinned officer.

The officer's face looked up to meet his gaze, squinting under the Greek sun, but they lit up with recognition.

"Hey, I know you!" the officer exclaimed. "You're Hanzo Shimada! Of the Shimada Clan, out in Japan!"

Hanzo's face flashed with surprise for a moment, before being replaced with a hostile scowl towards the man. More than displeased to hear that connection being made. Genji looking to his brother at that moment.

"Listen – if you get me out of here, my associates could get you into contact with your old clan and they could- Aaaagghh!"

The rest of the officer's proposal, thankfully, was cut short as Nathan's hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed his nose into the marble floor. Blood staining the limestone.

"Brin!" Ana yelled, seeing him use unnecessary force.

"What? He's literally trying to recruit the new-guy! Am I supposed to let that happen?" Nathan argued back, turning and still clutching the back of his head to look at his bloody nose. "Serves you right for trying to pull that shit in front of us."

The Talon officer had a pained expression on his face but still felt enough to cast a raging glare at Brin. Blood pouring over his teeth.

"Fuck you!" he spat out.

The Courier reaffirmed his grip on the back of his head and raised it to promptly slam him into the ground, again, but the Archer stepped forward.

"I believe he's had enough," he said, holding up an open palm. "He still has much punishment to look forward to, with the local authorities, I mean."

Nathan's mask looked up at Hanzo, staring for a moment while he clutched the back of his victim's head in his hand. Not a moment sooner, he lets the officer plop to the ground to writhe in pain.

"Whatever you say, boss. Let's just get out of here," Nathan relented, getting up to his full height and walking by them.

Then, over the next few minutes, the team gathered up all the Talon goons and tied them up in the middle of the ancient ruins. The commanding officer of the operation bound at his hands and feet, with a gag over his bloody mouth. Nathan and Jack tying up the knots before walking away from them and towards the edge of the cliff, where their ship hovered close-by.

There, the rest of the agents gathered around as they watched the two hostages fervently thank them, the two now shaking hands with Ana. None the wiser about the masked sniper, however.

"Thank you! Thank you, so much!" one curator exclaimed.

"You're very welcome," Ana responded. "Just make sure the local law enforcement takes care of this group."

"Oh, about that! They destroyed our phones when they captured us. So, you wouldn't happen to have anything that could help us call the police, no?"

"Hmm, we might. Hana, do you have an extra phone they can borrow? I'll make sure to burn it when we-"

"No need," Nathan suddenly spoke out, toting a Talon assault rifle pulling back on the charging handle. Pointing it up in the air and towards the open sea. "Ears up!"

The team barely had time to react and the curators jumped as Nathan unloaded a magazine into the air with fully-automatic fire. Drowning out noise in the closest vicinity with a shower of brass casings flooding out the rifle for every shot. The weapon's somewhat low rate of fire made it last a second or two longer than he had anticipated until he felt it rock against his shoulder one last time, becoming dry. The sound of the cliff edge quickly came back to them, with the birds still screeching and flapping in surprise. The barrel and the breach smoking, smelling like sulfur.

Nathan turned back to see much of the team glaring at him, and the curators looking at him in shock. However, a few moments later, the whine of a police siren could be heard traveling over the tiny island. Only getting louder as time passed.

"That was easy," Nathan commented, ejecting the magazine and clearing the chamber before discarding the weapon.

He walked to the dropship and went inside without another word, even as everyone else stared at him. Hanzo looked at his brother as if expecting an explanation, but Genji only shrugged as he got on the ship as well. Eventually, everyone else piled in, the curators watching as the large ship took off and disappeared into the ocean horizon.

* * *

The ride back to Gibraltar was short and almost sweet, feeling like a quick jump across a lake. Nathan couldn't have been happier to be back and closer to his bed, already on his feet and at the ramp door as they landed. Opening to reveal the same landing area with the same constructions of steel and concrete fused into the same mountain rock. Almost about to be halfway gone until he noticed a group of people walk up to the platform. Immediately spotting the base's doctor in the middle.

"Afternoon, Dr. Ziegler!" Nathan greeted before realizing she was wearing her Valkyrie suit but had her head completely enshrouded in a plastic cowl. As if she was about to venture into a toxic waste site. The staff around her wore similar uniforms, barely able to make out Aida's face next to Dr. Ziegler.

"Mom?"

Nathan looked over his shoulder to see Hana almost about to climb down and looking equally as surprised as him.

"Hana, please stay on the ship!" Dr. Ziegler commanded, yet sounding worried. "Don't get close to Nathan."

"What? Why?!"

"Please do as I say, Hana!"

The younger woman was taken aback by the sudden shift in tone, clutching a hand to her chest. It wasn't long until Jack and Ana appeared right behind her.

"Dr. Ziegler, what's wrong?" Nathan interjected, looking at the people in plastic suits. Starting to feel tense.

"Nathan… It recently came to my attention that you ventured into the Australian Omnium on your last mission," Dr. Ziegler explained but only leaving him more confused.

"Yeah, that was the plan. I thought you knew!"

"No, it's that you went directly  _inside_  the heavily irradiated ruins of the Omnium. That is what is worrying me, Nathan."

It was at that moment did Nathan's eyes lit up in realization, before groaning and rubbing the side of his face. His worries that it was something greater than that were subsided, and the Wastelander was almost amused that it was only just something as silly as radiation.

"Dr. Ziegler, you don't have to worry, then," Brin calmly reassured. "I flushed out all the radiation in my system after the mission. Before coming back, in fact."

"Really? How?"

"That anti-rad medicine I have. The ones I've been meaning to show you. If you don't believe me just take a look at my Pip-Boy."

Pressing a button and twisting a knob, he waved his left arm to the side, displaying the bulky case of the gauntlet for them to see. Glancing at her assistant for a moment, Angela walked forward and got within arm's length of Nathan. His arm's length, to be exact. Looking up at him first, she turned her gaze to the wrist-mounted computer. Putting one hand on it and pivoting to see the screen for herself, little resistance from the wearer. Being greeted by the amber glow of the strange display of the screen. Eventually, she spotted the piece of data she was looking for and indeed saw a big fat zero to indicate his radiation levels. Finding herself more astounded considering what happened to the Outback.

The Doctor looked up at Nathan's features and he seemed fine, relatively speaking. No fevers, no sweating, and still possessing a full head of hair. He looked like he could do with a few hours of rest, though.

"So, it seems," Dr. Ziegler admitted, taking a step back and facing him. "But…"

"I still probably have radioactive particulates on my clothes or I'm just having a delayed reaction to the rads… You still want to be thorough, don't you, Doctor?" Nathan asked, sounding deflated yet not entirely dismayed. As if he was already expecting this to happen, regardless of anything he had to say.

"Yes. And I must make sure the others weren't exposed to any lethal amounts you may have been emitting. I'm sorry."

"Eh, it's fine. Better you than anyone else. So, what are we waiting for? Let's at least get this done with-"

"Not so fast," Angela stopped, holding up one hand in front of him. Then, she reached for her belt and produced a metallic disk that was slightly bigger than her palm. Holding it out to him. "Can you hold this please, Nathan? For me?"

Without a word, the Waster grabbed the disk and just held it, wondering what the point was. Then, without warning, the sides of the disk popped out and shot into the air before hovering above his head. From its underside, it emitted a transparent shield with a bluish-tint that enveloped the tall man from head to toe. Nathan went wide-eyed, almost stumbling on his boots and spinning around to see he was surrounded by a wall of energy. After a few more moments, he stopped and looked around to still see Dr. Ziegler and her assistants standing before him through the shield. Trying to breathe easy, he reached out to touch the shield but could only watch as the wall of energy stopped him.

"Well… This is different," Nathan could only admit, looking up at the little drone keeping him trapped. "Did Vaswani make this?"

"She did, actually," Angela answered, walking up to him. "I'm sorry for this, Nathan. I just need to make sure no one else gets contaminated if you are still infected with a dose of radiation."

"You don't need to keep apologizing, I already got the gist of it," he adamantly reassured, but heaving a sigh as he looked up. "Lead the way."

The Doctor and her patient made their way to the medical wing. The "bubble" shifting around Nathan with every step, the drone following very closely. When they were on the other side of the yard, the rest of the returning agents clambered down but still looked. The Shimada brothers exchanged glances but no words and Morrison and Song still looked on with mild interest. Then, they heard soft laughter as Ana walked past them and into the base, the hood providing ample cover for her smirk.

"I'll make this up to you," Dr. Ziegler said, looking back at Nathan. "I promise."

"I told you, doctor, you don't have to keep worryin'," Nathan responded. "You haven't disappointed me yet, have you?"

* * *

"God-fucking-dammit…" Nathan growled as he sat on a bench along the wall, currently confined to a square room with nothing but a patient's gown. He sat parallel from the glass viewing-pane where he could see Dr. Ziegler and Aida on the other side, talking with each other as they looked at a holopad with data on it. Occasionally making glances to the patient inside, the former returning a reassuring smile to him. At least letting him think that things were fine, but it wasn't the square confinement or the lack of clothing that bothered the Waster. It was his "cell-mates" that didn't make the situation any better, as he felt a bony elbow poke him in the arm.

"Hey, psst!" Junkrat whispered to him with that consistently stupid grin. "What're you in for, mate?"

The twitchy Australian then burst into a fit of laughter, hugging his gut as if he told the best joke in the world. If Nathan had an iota of his amusement, he'd probably be able to tolerate being stuck with the Junkers in the small room.

"Ahhhh, that never gets old," Jamison mused, tugging at his own patient gown. "But it's usually in uniforms less revealing than this."

"Yeah… What are you guys even doing here?" Nathan questioned as he looked at the two for an explanation.

"Getting a check-up, what else? They probably think tubby here has come down with something from all those canisters he-"

"No, that's not what I meant. Why are you  _still_  here?"

"Oh, that! It's simple, mate: We've been officially contracted!"

There was a time where that happy declaration from the ash-covered bombardier would've surprised, maybe outright angered Nathan, where he would've subsequently gone on a tirade against whatever upper-hierarchy was left in this organization. Maybe he would've acted like that a month ago or more recently, but now Nathan just looked at the Fawkes with a bored expression and grunted in response. Barely surprised and less so interested.

"And I couldn't be happier!" Junkrat went on, almost able to keep his patient gown on. "Finally, I'm a part of a semi-legitimate organization that sees the value in my expertise. I knew lowering my standards would work! And I knew charming Madame Amari would come in handy when the head monkey-"

"Ape," Roadhog corrected.

"…When the head  _ape_  expressed his 'concerns'. Pah, he's got nothing to be concerned about with two top blokes added to his ranks. Every good team needs an explosive expert, and I'm glad she recognized that! Well, I might have some competition with the Eagle-Amari, but I ain't gonna let that Sheila take all the fun."

Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes stretched out and rested his hands behind his head, without a care in the world. Happy that things seem to be going up for him, for once. His partner wasn't nearly as expressive about getting wrapped up with the New Overwatch, but he didn't say much anyway. Just patiently waiting in his patient gown. However, Junkrat cast his eyes forward and gained a devilish smirk before slowing leaning over to Nathan again, who was silently musing to himself the entire time.

"Speaking of Sheilas…" he began, then whispering to Nathan. "What do you think of the blondie, mate? She's  _smokin'_ , aye?"

Nathan was broken out of his train of thought and looked to the glass, more than aware of who he was talking about. Seeing her still attentively look at her holopad and make occasional glances to her patients.

"Yeah, she's out of your league, though," Nathan stated, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Eh, nothing a little 'wasteland charm' can't fix," the Junker boasted.

"Hmph, good luck," the New Californian said.

* * *

 

"I'm telling you, Angela, I can't detect any other anomalies from Nathan," Aida told her mentor, flipping through the results on her holopad. "I've conducted multiple scans and had Athena double-check all of them. Still nothing. Just a clean bill of health."

"I see…" Angela acknowledged, but barely. "This is just a complete surprise for me. From what Fawkes recounted to the others, Nathan was practically in the heart of the Omnium ruins. He was exposed to radiation levels that could severely debilitate men half his age, or even worse. Yet, as you said, nothing!"

"I know. He said he had some type of anti-radiation medicine, right? Could it really be  _that_  effective?"

"None that I know of. I think I'll talk to him after we're done here. Go ahead and initiate the purging. Let's not keep them locked up inside longer than they need to."

"Yes, Angela."

Aida was about to head over to the console, but she paused and turned back to her mentor. Remembering something.

"I… Did, however, find some interesting details from him. Not regarding radiation or even his health," the assistant explained, clearly perturbed.

"Really?"

"Yes, but I'm not really sure what it is. It could've been technical noise from the instruments."

"I see… I'll look at it later, Aida. Let's just get them out of there, now."

Without a second thought, her young assistant went to the decontamination room's console and began operating it. A few clicks and beeps later, vents all over the room's ceiling began to spray a fine mist into the room and all over the occupants. Jamison cringed away from the mist, trying to hide into his partner who sat there and watched mist collect over his mask. Nathan looked around, equally as disinterested in the shower. Probably used to such procedures from back home.

Angela sheepishly gave him a thumbs-up through the glass, to which he returned the gesture before being enveloped in the mist.


	47. Reintroduction

The African Savannah at the afternoon was a breathtaking sight. The flat grassland stunning even with its mostly beige complexion. Barely a mountain, or hill, in sight to break the mirage. Maybe a few trees in the middle of empty-openness. Made little difference, even as the agents took a more conventional means of travel this time. No fancy whale of a ship to cart them around Western Africa.

Instead, they drove in a mammoth of a black van. Floating across the grassland with a city behind them. The grass rustling slightly as they drove by, speeding off towards an outpost on the outskirts of Numbani. The interior was big and roomy, enough space for all the agents, their equipment, and some extra supplies to fit in. But by that point, it got a bit packed.

Brigitte was driving the van, sharing the front cabin with Torbjörn and Reinhardt, trying to keep her eyes on the road and ears to the radio. Their incessant chatter unfaltering throughout the entire drive. Fortunately, it was sometimes more entertaining than the radio.

"I'm only asking for you to consider, Torbjörn," Reinhardt said, pleading to his friend.

"I have better uses of my time than pursuing such an outlandish idea, Rein," Torbjörn dismissed, buried in a holopad. "You do realize how much time is spent on the  _upkeep_  of your armor? Adding physical modifications is going to increase it two-fold."

"Please, you could practically do it with both your eyes gone. Besides, it could be a nice pet project for you and Brigitte! Father and daughter bonding-time."

"Don't bring her into this."

"I don't know  _pappa_. Sounds like it would be fun," Brigitte added, casting a smirk to him. " _Tesla Coils…_  Definitely different from what we usually work with,  _nej?_ "

The Head-Engineer groaned, seeing that he might have to add another task to his to-do list.

" _Helvete…_ " he muttered. "I'm an engineer, not an electrician. Where did you even get such an idea, Reinhardt?"

"From the  _Ödländer_ , of course!" the German boasted.

"Oh… of course. An imagination as wild as yours. If he can conjure up a viable power source for such an attachment, I'm all ears."

"Sure, but he might have some trouble hearing you from where  _you_  are."

The Swede punched Reinhardt in the shoulder, resulting in more laughter from the much larger German. Brigitte could only shake her head as both father-figures bickered even more, hoping they don't shake the van too much.

Eyes on the road and seeing they were getting closer to their destination, she pounded the wall behind her with a fist. On the other side, Fareeha Amari pounded the wall in response, turning to the other agents in the back.

"All right, everyone, gear up! We're almost there," she said, stepping to her Raptora Armor, suspended by a set of clamps.

As she was halfway through getting her armor on, she felt someone tap her on the arm and turned to see Lúcio.

"Hey, Fareeha, I just wanted to say 'thanks'," the Musician went on with a grateful smile. "For rounding up everyone and coming along on this one for me. It really means a lot."

"Don't mention it," she said, returning a smile. "Besides, we've had reports of activity occurring here for weeks. It's about time someone like your friend acted on it."

"Yeah, she's great. Hope all goes well when we see her. She might  _freak_  seeing Reinhardt and Torb, though."

Fareeha smiled at the thought, but that faded away for a second when she looked to the other side of the cabin to spot Satya Vaswani. Quietly reading a book as she sat on a glowing white chair she made appear out of thin air. If the mission hadn't taken them to an area without people in need, she would've objected to bringing her along. Not the only one with that sentiment.

"Just tell me if there's any trouble, all right?" she asked.

"Sure thing, Cap!" Lúcio said, sliding back to his corner.

So, almost everyone was gearing up for their stop. However, sitting upon a large toolbox against the wall, Nathan sat with his armor and gear by his feet and stared at a holopad he held. He hasn't extensively used these 'tablets' that practically everyone in this world seemingly possessed, but today he swiped his finger and scrolled through an image gallery of guns. One of many galleries he found.

Specifically browsing a handgun, as he looked at dozens of images of M1911's. Remembering what happened to his 1911 the last time he was in Numbani. Seeing many examples with slides as silver as the finish on his. Remembering how it glinted in the Mojave sun at dawn. All the times it saved his ass. Although, he found many attractive examples in this search.

"See something you like?" a gravelly voice asked as McCree walked over and reached up to some supplies hanging over him.

"Nah, just browsing," Nathan responded, not taking his eyes off the catalog.

"Can't blame ya'. .45's like that run for a fortune, these days. And I'd imagine shipping'll be a pain. Still, wouldn't mind having one."

"Price ain't the problem. Replacing it is."

"You already did, didn't you?"

"With another 1911, I mean. Would feel insulting to do that to something I've had for so long."

McCree tilted his head, glancing at the holster on his hip

"Can't blame ya' for feeling that way," he admitted. "Imagined you two have been through hell together. Where did you pick her up, anyway?"

"Utah."

"Heh, fitting. Bought it?"

"From a praying man."

Nathan kept silent as he took one last look at the page of handguns until shutting it off, the holopad becoming clear. He got up when the van came to a stop, everyone huddling up to the door. Before it opened, Nathan noticed Satya next to him and staring at the door. Her face was still, as if deep in thought about the next course of action needed to be taken. Yet, she also seemed disconcerted as she took quick glances around the space. The tight, cramped back of the van they had to share with each other and loads of equipment. Didn't seem completely at ease, if a few of the comments she made beforehand about the state of the van were any indication. Meanwhile, on his left, Lúcio couldn't wait to see his "contact".

The van's door opened and Brigitte was the first to greet them.

"We're here," the driver announced.

One-by-one the agents filed out for a breath of fresh savanna air, stretching their legs after a long drive.

They were at an outpost, a security checkpoint posted not too far from Numbani proper, complete with buildings and personnel. Despite being tagged as "international criminals", Overwatch wasn't immediately fired upon by them. In fact, there was a group waiting to meet them. Accompanied by a little girl and her towering robot. Nathan already groaning as he saw them.

"Efi! Orisa!" Lúcio exclaimed as he broke through and skated to the two.

"Lúcio!" Efi called out, hugging the skating man. "Thank you for coming!"

"No problem, I came here as soon as you called. How have you guys been? Got to work on those new upgrades for Orisa you've been messaging me about?"

"Enthusiastically so!" Orisa answered, walking up to him. "This morning, Efi was finally able to update my pathfinding routines and I can navigate off-road terrain 65.239% more efficiently."

"Really?"

"Yes, and she listened to your entire album on loop as she did."

Efi's smile dropped when Orisa said that, spinning around to yell at her and speak in hushed tones. Her creation wondering what she did wrong.

By that time, the rest of the squad caught up to Lúcio and saw the two for themselves. When they all did, Efi fell silent again and stared in awe at some of the people that were now standing before her and Orisa. Not even the first time she met Overwatch agents in the field, but some of them were new faces to her. Lúcio noticing her reaction.

"Oh, yeah. Brought back up with me, too," he added, boasting a proud grin.

"I have heard much about you, young lady!" Reinhardt exclaimed, stepping over to meet Efi. Yet, he took care to crouch down and get as close to her eye-level as he could. "And is this your guardian? Quite an impressive machine."

Like when she first met Lúcio, the young girl seemed awestruck by the large old man greeting her. Knowing full well who he was.

"I know who you are!" Orisa suddenly burst out, sounding cheery and her eyes snapping into joyful arrows. "Reinhardt Wilhelm; Veteran of the Omnic Crisis and served in the German  _Bundeswehr_  as a lieutenant in the Crusaders. Subsequently serving in Overwatch for many years until mandatory retirement."

"Ah, a fellow fan, I presume?" the old Crusader asked, standing up to face the large machine. Naturally at eye-level. "We have much to discuss, then!"

"Maybe we should discuss the job, instead…?" Torbjörn was quick to interject, walking between them, casting wary looks towards the omnic.

Meanwhile, the security personnel that Efi waited with were off to the side and conversed with Captain Amari, her helmet held under her arm. Their dialog simple and to the point, learning why they were here. Nathan stood by and watched, waiting for her. Unfortunately, metal hooves stomped behind him as the sun was blotted out. Taking a deep breath beneath his helmet.

"Yes?" he asked, turning around to Orisa who towered well above him and was closer than he preferred.

"Hello, Mr. Boone!" the large Omnic greeted, waving her hand. "It has been a long time since we have seen each other. How are you, today?"

"Like shit."

Orisa's "pupils" became round and wide, acting surprised by his response. Especially one so vulgar.

"I am very sorry to hear that, then."

"Yeah."

Having enough of waiting for Amari, Nathan broke off from the group and walked back to the van. Orisa watched him and looked back at Efi, still chatting happily with Lúcio and now Reinhardt. After, she looked back at Nathan and began to follow him. The mechanical quadruped easily catching up.

"Mr. Boone, I would like to apologize for the transgressions that occurred the last time you were in Numbani. Where I mistook you for an offender," Orisa explained, walking by his side. "Efi has improved my programming greatly since, so such an incident should not repeat. I hope you have it in your heart to forgive me."

"Okay, apology not accepted," Nathan merely responded. Orisa's eyes clicked in surprise. Then, they rotated and "squinted" as he dropped some of his gear back into the van and poked around to retrieve something.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't understand," the omnic admitted, her eyes still fixed on him.

Nathan groaned again before retrieving his Vault 13 canteen.

"Fine, let me break it down for you," he started, to get her to leave. "For starters, my last name isn't 'Boone'. It's Brin."

"You lied?"

"Yes."

"But lying is wrong."

Brin stared at her as soon as the huge robot said that, shaking his head as he took a sip from his canteen.

"Whatever you say… And the second reason I don't forgive you is because you haven't earned it. It isn't easy to forgive someone who threw me like a ragdoll and nearly ripped my arm off. Especially when I was on your side the entire damn time."

"It was not my intention and I certainly would not have acted so aggressively had I known earlier."

"Doesn't change the fact it still happened. If you want my apology, saying 'I'm sorry' ain't gonna cut it."

"' _Ain't'_? Is that a word?"

He just took another sip and groaned internally.

"Yes, it's a word, used in a similar fashion to 'isn't'," he explained in a deadpan tone.

"I see. Well, what will it take to earn your apology?"

"Maybe you don't fuck up, next time? Or fuck  _me_  up? I don't know, do whatever your programming allows."

"I see, now. Thank you, I will mark that objective as a high-priority from now on until your apology."

"Cheers. Now can you piss off-"

"Updating Internal Dictionary…"

"…Seriously?"

"Analyzing recent social performance… Complete! 'Social Butterfly Subroutines' updated. Thank you, Mr. Brin, I will inform Efi of these improvements."

Orisa then cantered off, apparently unfazed by Nathan's somewhat subtle attempts to get her to leave him alone. Clearly expecting too much from a machine designed by an 11-year-old. Then, poking his head out from the van with a rag, Manuel looked on and watched the omnic go.

"You don't have to be so hard on her, you know?" the man in the blue jumpsuit commented, wiping his dirty hands.

"I'll consider it when she stops being annoying," the tall Waster replied, taking another hearty sip.

"I'll hold you to that. Oh, eyes-on! Captain's coming back."

Manuel tapped Nathan on the shoulder and made him look ahead to see Capt. Amari finally returning to the van, done talking with the Numbanian personnel.

"What's the skinny, chief?" Nathan asked, putting his canteen away.

"I've been informed that a village on the edge of Numbani's local government area had been recently attacked by unknown assailants. As well as the security personnel camp assigned to be that village's guardians," the Captain explained.

"Let me guess… Talon?"

"At this point, I wouldn't be surprised. However, the big difference is that the villagers are fine. Barely any casualties. Could be a good start to ask some questions."

"Could also be a trap."

"I won't deny that, either."

"At least we have the girl and her pet tank to come along."

Amari looked back at the mentioned duo, watching as Reinhardt tried to teach Orisa one of his many audacious poses. Pointing his large arms high to the sky and Orisa trying to mimic the movement as Efi looked on. Brigitte and Torbjörn next to her – one Lindholm clearly more amused than the other.

"About that… Efi will have to stay behind," Fareeha said.

"Why?" Nathan asked.

"It's too dangerous to bring her along. She might be useful and a valuable ally to have on the field, but I'm not going to risk bringing a little girl into a war zone. Winston was very adamant about that before we left, but I didn't need to be convinced."

Nathan looked at Fareeha, then to Efi. Watching as she laughed at the silly poses.

"You should tell her that, then," Brin said, climbing back into the van. "She seemed really excited when we got here."

She looked over her shoulder at him. With a sigh, she dropped her launcher back in the van and walked over to Efi and Orisa.

* * *

The agents had arrived at the village, and not too soon. Despite an advanced municipality with a population of bipedal machines miles away, they came across a quaint little town made of more wood than metal. They didn't have stick roofs or muddy roads and had modern amenities, but were much humbler than their neighbors across the yard. That quaintness betrayed by some smoke and people walking around in bandages. Other than that, the Arroyo tribal thought it looked cozy.

"Okay, everyone, let's spread out and help these people any way we can," Amari ordered. "Vaswani, you help rebuild anything and put their homes back in working order. Reinhardt and Orisa, help unload some of the supplies they gave us so we can distribute it among them. Torbjörn, Brigitte, see if there's anything that needs fixing. The rest of you, do whatever you can."

With that said, the others wasted no time following orders, at the ready to provide aid. Nathan was about to help the unload the crates of Numbani supplies, seeing Reinhardt, Orisa, and Manuel on top of things, but Fareeha had other ideas.

"Brin, I need to ask something of you," she said, walking up to him. "During your…  _wandering_  days… How good were you at asking questions from the people you would meet?"

"Good enough, I guess?" the Wastelander confessed. "Why?"

"I'm wondering if you could do the same here."

"You want me to interrogate these people?"

"No, nothing that severe! Just ask around the village. See if you learn anything about what happened here. Intelligence gathering. Numbani security couldn't. Can you do that?"

He very much would prefer hauling boxes of shit as opposed to conversing with the locals, but it still served a purpose. Would probably get them out of here, sooner.

"Fine," he begrudgingly accepted, walking away from Fareeha and into the village. She frowned, before putting her helmet on and shooting up to get a bird's eye view of the perimeter.

Nathan walked into the town and along its main street, taking off his helmet to get a better look. Many residents were outside and trying to help clean up the place or help their neighbor rebuild things. Few of them seemed to be in high spirits, and even fewer looked like they were in the mood to chat. They did acknowledge his presence, some staring at him and some nodding to him. Finally, seeing someone who didn't seem too busy or shaken, he went up to someone standing idly at her front doorway.

"Excuse me, ma'am, have you-?" Nathan couldn't finish as the woman hurriedly stepped back inside and shut the door in his face. "…Fuck you, too, then."

He went on, going door-to-door to see if anyone else had anything to say. Any information they could use to get a better grasp of the situation. Maybe figure out why Numbani is letting them operate within their jurisdiction and let them borrow their guard dog. A few other doors did shut in his face, but thankfully, there were more people who were willing to cooperate. They varied in helpfulness, however.

"Do you know what happened here?" Brin would ask.

"I don't know. I just woke up and heard shooting, screaming, and explosions. Honestly, I just hid until morning came around."

Next house, over.

"Do you know what happened here?"

"No. There was suddenly fighting and gunshots from the camp. Could barely see anything in the dark. Just a lot of… Sparks."

"Sparks?"

"I'm not sure. It could've been an energy weapon going off, but I didn't want to poke my head out to see."

Next house, over. Same story… Wildly different interpretation.

"It was like a bomb had gone off and the ground shook! Powerful enough to level a city block. A terrible, thunderous noise," an old woman went off, sounding like she had seen the end of the world. "As if the Crisis was gearing up, again!"

"Did you see anything else?"

"No, but my neighbor might've since a car was thrown through his roof."

"…What?"

Sure enough, the next house over was missing a roof. With the door already wide open, Nathan knocked and peered inside to see a large car in the living room and turned on its side. Wondering how it got there.

"Can I help you?"

He turned his head to the left and saw an omnic standing in a hallway, wearing a brown sweater vest and khaki pants. His hands in his pockets.

"Yes, was wondering if I could ask you a question?" the human responded.

Suddenly, a child's voice echoed out from the hallway and a little human girl appeared from behind the omnic's legs.

"Daddy, what's going on? Who is that man?" the little girl asked, clutching his pants.

"HD? Who are you speaking to?" another voice sounded out, an adult woman appearing behind him.

The omnic then picked the little girl up and handed her to her mother.

"It's nothing, I'll take care of this. Just get back inside," he reassured.

The mother still looked unsure, but she retreated further into the house with their daughter.

"Is this a bad time?" Nathan asked, witnessing the entire thing.

"No, but it always seems that way. Every time there's a dilemma or trouble going on. Always your group involved in it, somehow," the omnic said, walking up to the front door.

"Uh huh… So, you don't know what happened?"

"No, I don't know much about what happened last night. All I know is that it sounded like a war zone just occurred in my front yard and there's a fucking car in my living that almost crushed my wife and child. Iris be damned, I wish I knew!"

The omnic accusingly pointed a metal digit at Nathan. His static faceplate betraying his frustration.

"But what I do know is that you and your little group of misfits are responsible for this, one way or the other. Can't clean up your own mess, properly! So, it spreads and ruins someone else's day. Sometimes their life. Why can't Overwatch and Talon and everyone just fuck off already and leave people in peace?"

The omnic stopped ranting, letting down his arm and taking a more eased stance. Nathan stared at him, his expression unchanged from the beginning of their conversation.

"Well?!" the omnic demanded.

"So… Do you want to actually to be useful and do something or are you just gonna stand there with your mechanical thumb up your ass?" the Courier asked, not caring for an answer.

The omnic stared at him, the faceplate static.

"I understand. I'll leave you to it, then," Brin said, leaving him at his doorway.

Back outside, he looked around to see if there was anyone else that needed questioning, someone that would be cooperative and tell him what the hell is going on around here. Instead, he spotted Vaswani across the street, engaging in an apparent argument with some old woman. Well, the old woman was the one arguing, yelling at a poor translator who recited what she was saying back to Vaswani in English. Nathan went over to see what all the fuss was about.

"What's going on?" he asked, joining the conversation.

"This old woman is refusing to let me reconstruct parts of her home," Satya answered, subtly displeased.

"She doesn't wish for Ms. Vaswani to work on her home because of her employer," the translator answered, gesturing to her. "She said, and I quote, 'would rather not have another corporation ruin her home'."

"I am not ruining her home!" the Vishkar employee took offense to that. "I am making corrections and improvements so that her residence will be in habitable order, again."

The translator recited that to the old woman, but she just threw up her hand and grumbled. Satya shut her eyes and breathed out of her nose but maintained her composure.

Nathan said nothing as he looked up to see the house for himself, examining obvious signs of damage. What caught his eyes was a chunk missing from the roof – not car-sized but enough to be problematic during bad weather. Sure enough, he could see certain clouds begin to form high up in the sky. He wasn't familiar with West African climate, but it looked like they would be expecting some rain soon.

"I don't care what she does, but you should probably tell her that if she doesn't think of something soon she might wanna get an umbrella," Nathan said, pointing to the clouds.

What he said was relayed back to the old woman, and she looked back to see the encroaching weather. She grumbled even more, before throwing her hand up and speaking.

"She'll let you fix the roof, but nothing else," the translator said.

"Not optimal, but if that's all she requests, so be it," Vaswani relented, before turning to Nathan. "Thank you, Mr. Brin."

The Vishkar employee spun her hands around to form a blue hologram of a three-dimensional shape. Then, beginning to make structures appear out of thin air. Nathan watching as she conjured materials from the palm of her hand. He thought it would take a while for her to finish, but the Architect gracefully twirled and twisted her hands and formed a large polygonal hologram that hovered in the air above her. The shape matching the hole in the roof. Then, with another twirl, the shape materialized into a bright white block and fill in the hole on the roof. Almost effortlessly. A moment later, the old woman poked the new roofing job with her cane and found it sturdy. Still grumbling about the help.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Vaswani bowed towards the old woman, before swiftly turning and heading to the next home in need of renovations.

However, as she went, Nathan heard someone clapping behind him.

"Great job," he hears, turning around to find a man in military gear sitting upon a crate. With a shiny bald head and rough beard on his face. A deadpan expression as he clapped.

"Don't know how we've survived without you lot," the man went on, in an accent the Waster never heard before. Sounded vaguely British, vaguely Australian, but most likely from neither. "Overwatch here to save the day… Fookin' right."

"And who're you?" the New Californian questioned.

"Civilian contractor hired to protect these people by the city of Numbani, along with a bunch of other guns for hire. Came here after those OR15's got scrapped. Our camp isn't too far from here."

"So, you know what happened?"

"I was right in the fuckin' middle of it when it all started. Was out on a patrol when our main base lit up like a laser show. Ran back and before you knew it, we were outgunned and outmanned in a matter of seconds. Had to run back to the damn village where they followed us but stopped."

"Stopped?"

"I don't know, other than some gunshots and that damn car, the fighting stopped as soon as we went into town. Been quiet ever since."

"They chased you?"

"Yeah, and they probably had a fucking laugh about it all the way here."

"Do you know who attacked you?"

"Could barely see them in the dark, but the reds of their eyes gave me a pretty good idea."

"Oh, goddammit…"

At this point, he wasn't surprised. Anytime it seemed like something was broken or wrong, those bastards seemed to be behind it. As if they had it out for not just Overwatch, but the entire world. He was still unsure what their angle was supposed to be, his Internet searches mostly fruitless and leading him to some strange websites. Although at this point he had little reason to care as they always shot at him. As tedious as Legionaries.

"Fucking everywhere, aren't they?" he cursed.

"Yeah, and you'd have better luck surviving if you switch careers," the mercenary stated, producing a can of beer and opening it. "I'm sure Helix has safer working conditions than the hell you have to go through. Better benefits, too. Shame some of our coworkers apparently didn't get the memo."

The mercenary glanced up to the sky, spotting the glint of blue armor as it hovered over the village and provided a watchful eagle-gaze.

"Yet, here we are taking over," Nathan bit back, looking at the sky. "Guess Numbani doesn't think you are as useful, anymore."

The mercenary didn't say anything else as his expression became more stone-like, only taking another gulp of his beer.

Nathan heard a garbled noise come from his hip, where his helmet was hanging off his belt. Grabbing it and placing it upon his head.

"Brin, do you copy?" Amari's voice was calling out.

"Loud and clear," Brin responded, looking up at the sky.

"Were you able to dig up anything?"

"Most sources are muddled and confusing, but they mostly point to Talon. Big surprise. Don't know how the car got there, though. You?"

Nathan expected a quick, straightforward response after he asked, but got a few seconds of silence.

"Amari?"

"I have a good idea," she admitted. "Be on high alert. I see smoke in the distance, probably the mercenary outpost that Helix set up. We'll have to go and investigate."

"Sure thing. Ain't too far. I'll-"

"Hold on."

Nathan stopped, and then heard the rumbling of jet engines as the Captain descended to the ground and landed right next to him.

"Someone has to watch your back," she said as she began walking towards the camp. "Jesse, want to tag along?"

"Sure thing," McCree called out over the radio. "People here are lacking some hospitality."

"Let's get a move on, then."

"Hmph, alright," Nathan scoffed, about to go until Lúcio ran in front of him, being followed by a gaggle of children. Chasing him as he expertly dribbled a soccer ball between his feet, before one of the kids reached out and was able to kick it out from under him and continued chasing after the ball, screaming and laughing as they did. Lúcio turned to Nathan and shrugged.

"Gotta keep spirits up," he said, before skating after them.

Nathan watched them as he raised his hand up and summoned his rifle's stock to it, heading outside the village.

* * *

The three walked along the grassy field towards the mercenary camp, not too far from the village and posted along what seemed to be some type of forest. The trees forming a border, almost. Despite having a longer gait, Nathan hung back and watched the group's rear, scanning their surroundings and watching for anything among the grass. The pace being set by Fareeha as she took point, with McCree in the middle. For the first half of their short trip, it was silent. Only grass rustling by their feet. Nathan kept his eyes on their rear, though, occasionally glancing back to the village and spotting the group of children chasing after that soccer ball with the Brazilian leading the group. Spotting others, including Manuel, joining them

"Amari, I got a question," he said.

"Yes, Brin?" she responded.

"Was it really a good idea to bring both dos Santos  _and_  Vaswani along?"

"No, but they both have their uses for this mission and I'm willing to tolerate any conflict that comes up between them. As long as it causes little disruption. I entrust them to be professional about things."

"What if you don't?"

"Then I entrust either myself or Reinhardt to try to amend and quell any insubordination… God, I hate that word."

Nathan hummed in response, still watchful of the rear but taking a second to glance at the front where she was.

"Speaking of subordinates," he began, turning away from their rear for a moment. "What happened to Hoosic?"

"Hoosic? From Guizhou?" Captain Amari responded, a little bit surprised that Nathan even remembered him.

"Who else? I haven't really seen him since then, and I expected we would bring along more backup. Did he recover?"

"He did… But he wasn't in a condition to keep working with us, so he left."

"Lucky bastard. Probably happy he's not in the muck with us."

"Hoosic left at my behest, actually. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to keep going on missions with us, get payback for what happened. Even when Angela explained to him that his wounds did not make him combat-ready in the slightest… And probably never will."

Fareeha fell silent after saying that, her eyes staring at the ground in front of her as she continued walking. Unable to think of anything else at that moment. McCree, who stayed silent the entire walk between them cast glances at both. Pulling on his cigar.

"In my opinion, it was the right call, Fare," Jesse said, puffing out smoke. "In this line of work, it would've done more harm than good to keep him along."

"I agree, and my earlier point still stands," Nathan added, as they had now crossed into the camp.

They saw that it was mostly a smoldering ruin with partially destroyed buildings, torn tents, and wrecked security vehicles. The barriers that surrounded the perimeter and acted as its walls were riddled with gunshots. The fires had died out, but smoke still rose from a few damaged structures.

"I'll get high up and scan the perimeter, provide overwatch. You guys cover the ground and tell me if you find anything," Captain Amari ordered, her wings clicking and flexing as the thrusters began to warm up. "And… Thank you. Stay frosty."

She thrust up into the air, beginning to encircle the area but stay relatively close to the ground. Jesse then hit Nathan in the arm, frowning a little.

"Wouldn't kill ya' to not bring up something like that during a mission," he lampooned.

"I'll remember not to ask questions, next time," the Waster retorted.

Brin and McCree walked into the mercenary camp, watching their step as they carefully navigated around pieces of rubbles and debris. Nathan had All-American in his hands as he shuffled his eyes between the ground and around, while McCree kept one hand on his cigar and the other on his leather.

"How much you willing to bet one these are booby-trapped?" Jesse prodded, smirking.

"$20 NCR," Nathan responded, stepping over a sizable hole in the ground.

"How much is that?"

"Enough to not make stupid bets like that, again."

They explored more of the mercenary camp, going to different corners to cover more ground. They still couldn't find much other than all the damage. However, constantly finding nothing wasn't as comforting as one would usually hope.

"Brin, do you… See any bodies around here?" McCree called out, finding nothing but dirt.

"Nope, not a single one. There's a lot of casings, though," he responded, picking up and examining brass shells. "No one was dead back in the village, right?"

"Nope, they all seemed pretty alive to me. Somethings up."

The Courier flipped the safety off after he said that, getting ready for anything. Already envisioning himself gunning down a dozen Talon foot soldiers before dinner. Slowly inching his way to cover as he held the barrel level.

"Amari, you see anything from up there?" he asked.

"Stand-By… To the east, at the tree line. My HUD is picking up multiple heat signatures. They seem faint, though. Are those birds?" she questioned, descending to get closer to the others.

Nathan turned and held his rifle towards the tree line, right where the camp was set up against. Now noticing that there was no barrier where he was facing. Where the camp was facing. The forest dense enough where he couldn't spot any movement through it, but he could still listen.

"I don't hear any birds."

Before anyone could even do anything, explosions erupted throughout the camp and their world was enveloped in a cloud of fire and smoke. The shockwave from the blasts nullified any feeling Nathan had as he was thrown across the air and landed with his face down on the dirt. Only after a few moments of feeling like a mountain had fallen upon him, he stirred to his hands and knees. Reaching to his belt and pulling a little white triangle with a gentle blue glow in the middle. The shield module having held through the blast, leaving him relatively unscathed.

'I need to buy Vaswani a fucking drink…'

"Jesse! Brin! Are you all right!" Amari yelled, flying down to the hover above the camp. Her head swiveling to find them.

"Hell-fucking-no!" the Cowboy exclaimed, stumbling to his feet and clearing Peacemaker from its leather.

Immediately, he started firing towards the tree line and at the dozen or so red eyes running towards them and shooting. Brin and Amari wasted no time joining him, running headlong into the firefight. The camp once again immersed in a war zone, drowning out all other noise.

"Torbjörn, get your defenses up and running! Reinhardt, get over here and give us some cover! Everyone else, protect the village!" the Captain commanded, her jets roaring to life as she began to strafe the enemy.

"Right away!" Reinhardt's voice boomed over the comms.

Brin and McCree fired upon the advancing Talon troops, quickly dispatching anyone they could get a clear line of sight on. However, as he was engaging them, Nathan could tell there was something different about these guys. In the past couple of months, he killed dozens of men in black uniforms and silver heads, these troops were covered head to toe in armor padding and plates, and their helmets seemed more advanced and intricate than the silver domes he was used to popping off. The weapons they were holding were different, too, some type of compact rifle. Their uniforms covered in a digitized forest camo that helped them blend in with the tree line they rushed from.

They acted differently, too; Taking care to find and stay in cover, not grouping up and keeping their spacing amongst each other, and not trying to get too close to the Overwatch agents and the Courier. Apparently having their sights focused on the latter, as a hail of gunfire was suppressing his position.

"Amari, I can barely move!" Brin called out, metal pinging close to his head. "I might need some help here!"

"Copy that! Barrage strafe incoming!" the Captain in flying power armor responded.

Her thrusters thundered and roared as she was about to make another pass, but towards the enemy. As she got within 100 meters of their position, panels on her armored pauldrons and thighs opened and began raining tiny missiles upon them, a flurry of explosions decimating the Talon caught under it. Bodies, body parts, and even their cover flying.

Noting the drop in gunfire on his position, Nathan ran out with his rifle up. Already firing upon targets as he moves closer to another barrier, getting a better view of where they were spilling out. The sound of a weapon charging caught his attention and he ducked behind cover as a shotgun blast went off and peppered his position. He hurriedly loaded a fresh mag into his carbine as he listened to some heavy footsteps on the other side. The barrel of a large shotgun was hoisted over the barrier and towards him, but he narrowly avoids a direct blast as he knocks it away with his Pip-Boy. However, the stock gets swiped across his face and he falls against the barrier as a large man in armor and bandoliers with shotgun shells jumped over to his side. Measuring almost up to Nathan's height. The Waster quickly swiped the shotgun and got up to drive a blade into him, but the Talon operator swiftly blocked the arm and punched him where his ranger armor didn't cover him, making him lurch forward. The operator clearly punching above his weight. Then, he headbutts Nathan right in the helmet and offsets his balance enough to make him fall on his ass. He kicked him in the chest, those blades on his boots scraping against the armor but the force enough to make him roll back from the blow. The Courier quickly recovers on his feet, though, and as his foe was about to deliver another blow he swiped a strong leg underneath his clawed boots. Falling and banging his head against the cover, the Talon shotgunner was dazed as a powerful punch drove him into the ground. The large Waster scooped him up into a stranglehold and struggled for a moment until he drove his blade straight into his gullet, tearing through fabric and flesh with warm blood starting to pour down onto his hand. Hearing his victim gurgle one last time before he swung it outward and made it splatter across the dirt, letting the body flop down. While he was distracted, more Talon troops came out to confront him but were quickly dispatched by a series of precise magnum shots.

Jesse McCree ran and rolled to cover next to Nathan, who dove down with him.

"That was close," the Cowboy commented, flipping his revolver and getting all the spent cartridges out simultaneously.

"No shit! These guys are different. Never seen 'em like this before," the Courier growled, snarling under his mask as he poked his head from cover.

"I have, and I don't exactly miss this 'return to form'."

"Really? They haven't always been jackasses?"

"They've always been that, but these bastards are getting organized, again. Don't that beat all!"

McCree peeked over cover and fired a few rounds, landed a blow for each of them. In between a reload, Nathan looked at the corpse he made and reached over to the shotgun. It was a big, hefty thing that felt decent in his large hands, fiddling with it until he opened the breach and ejected two spent shells. He then reached over to the corpse and started looting all the ammo he could find for it.

"What the hell are you doing?!" McCree exclaimed, noticing what was happening next to him.

"He's dead and an asshole, so fuck him! Not gonna waste a perfectly good gun," Nathan responded, inserting two fresh shells and locking it.

An explosion went off uncomfortably close to where they were, Jesse poking his head from cover and firing off retaliatory shots.

"Fine, then cover my ass!"

Without hesitation, McCree bolted from cover to find another hiding spot, occasionally firing off with his revolver towards the forest. Brin provided the cover he promised, watching a few of these troops fall as he shot them down with his rifle. Ducking, he loaded a fresh mag and planned to run from cover to rejoin McCree, but a thundering noise from the sky changed that.

Literally, just a few feet from where he was, something clad in white crashed to the ground and made him stumble of his feet. As dirt and dust spewed everywhere, Nathan shielded himself until the smoke cleared and he looked up.

His blood became cold and he felt the sweat on his body freeze when he saw the outline of a large figure clad in armor towering over him, seeing the smoke whisk around the spinning barrels of a minigun. He felt the sun's heat bearing down on him, feeling the Mojave take hold. The Courier snarled and drew his sidearm.

"Fucking raiders!" the man screamed, bloodthirsty and going wild with the pistol.

However, when the smoke finally settled, it instead revealed a man in a large white exoskeleton with armor padding and a bright red helmet. It sported two miniguns attached to its arms that were bigger than some cannons, connected to large glowing red pylons on its back. Rounds only pinged off the behemoth's armor until the slide locked back, leaving him with an empty pistol. Instead of using its miniguns, a thruster on its back ignited and the large thing charged towards him. About to crush the Waster.

Thankfully, another set of power armor collided with the behemoth and stopped it in its tracks, before swinging his large rocket hammer into it. The strikes were fast and powerful, but the heavy quickly recovered and began firing its miniguns toward the challenger. Reinhardt quickly deploying his barrier and shielding himself and the others from the barrage.

"Just in the nick of time, hah!" the old German exclaimed, reaffirming his grip on his hammer.

As Reinhardt provided cover, Fareeha flew down and crouched right next to Nathan.

"Brin are you alright?! What-?"

"Focus!" he exclaimed, instantly getting back up and running to the fight.

Running up to Reinhardt's barrier, Nathan held his new shotgun and fired it towards the behemoth, sending crackling pellets of energy and breaking it open to insert fresh shells. The recoil somewhat rougher than he expected. Learning how to manage the kick of the thing. Soon, the others joined him and lined up at Reinhardt's barrier. Their combined fired taking out multiple Talon infantry and impeding the heavy's ability to attack. Then, in a final effort, the behemoth tried charging again but the Crusader was even quicker.

"No, you don't!" Reinhardt yelled as he spun around and swung his hammer directly into the behemoth. Sending it flying much further than before and even crashing into the tree line.

The Crusader's thruster ignites, and he went charging into their lines, veering himself as he plowed through their forces and crushed them underneath his hammer or threw them around like ragdolls. Capitalizing on the situation, Fareeha blasted off into the sky again and delivered another payload of missiles as she strafed around them. Even through the explosions and German laughter, McCree and the Courier fired their weapons and took out any stragglers they saw. The latter much wilder with his rifle shots.

Through the Overwatch agents' combined might, the Talon troops seemed to be finally taking a hint and were running back into the forest. Disappearing among the brush and tree trunks. The backs of their fancy armor being the only things they saw. There was still some occasional fire from them, but they eventually became more concerned with their own survival. After it seemed things were settling, the agents lowered their weapons and slowly eased. Except for Nathan Brin, who had his rifle still up with a fresh mag.

"Fuckin' pussies!" he growled, his eyes scanning the forest edge and running towards it. "Come on!"

"Woah, woah, woah! Where do you think you are going, my friend?" Reinhardt said, holding out a large metal hand to block Nathan's way. "They are running away from us. We've won this round… I hope."

Nathan looked at Reinhardt, then back at the forest to see no red among the green. He growled and walked away from the forest edge.

"Let's get back to the village. See if everyone else is all right. Don't let your guard down, we're not out of this, yet," Capt. Amari ordered, still wary of the situation as she boosted herself off the ground.

In a hustle, the others got back to the village and found that everything was still the way it was when they left, only with fewer people this time around. When they arrived, Lúcio was the first one to greet them.

"Hey, welcome back!" the Musician greeted, decked out in his gear this time. "You guys all right?"

"All accounted for," Fareeha stated, looking back at everyone with her. "You?"

"Can't complain. While you guys were busy fighting, we were able to evacuate the people and get them out here safely. Sent Orisa along with them, too, to be extra safe. To be honest, I was getting worried there for a second. With all the fighting that went on. Thought you guys were in knee-deep trouble."

"Preposterous," Vaswani suddenly interjected, walking up to them. "I had good faith they would be able to resolve the situation in a positive outcome. You should have a little more faith."

"Right," Lúcio rolled his eyes. "You fix that guy's toaster yet?"

"Guys…" sighing, Fareeha was about to step over to them and intervene to make sure they don't end up bickering with each other until they got back to Gibraltar, but she stopped when they heard the low-humming of an aircraft approaching their position. Turning around, they all looked up to see a dark ship against the blue sky – high above them.

"Take cover!" Reinhardt yelled, deploying his barrier against the sky.

"No, wait!" Fareeha Amari exclaimed, her visor letting her see more clearly what was in the sky. "Is that… A man?!"

Before Overwatch could even react, the figure had plummeted to the ground right in the center of the village. The impact of shattering the concrete, erupting the ground, and collapsing some nearby walls. Literally quaking the ground and knocking a few off their feet. Fortunately, for the ones left standing, the shaking stopped as quickly as it began.

Unfortunately, they looked ahead from where they stood to see through the cloud of dust and smoke the silhouette of a large dark figure. Standing alone among the agents.

Security-Chief Fareeha Amari boosted up into the air to get a better vantage point, her rocket launcher with a fresh clip. Even with her HUD, she had to wait for the dust to settle to identify who it was. And when it did, the daughter of Ana Amari widened her eyes when she saw the gold tint of a large, mechanical gauntlet.

They all did. Everyone in Overwatch – veterans and newbies – recognizing who that dark man that stood tall with an impressive upper body forged of muscle and machines. Yet, wearing a traditional red and white garb around his waist down to his knees, before even more technologies adorned his legs. When more dust settled, he finally showed his face with a shiny, bald head and white warpaint running from the bridge of his nose to the sides of his jaw. His expression in a permanent scowl as he brought the large gauntlet up and pumped it into a fist, making it spark with several machine parts clicking into place.

"Everyone, hold fast! Get behind me and-!" Reinhardt Wilhelm exclaimed, trying to rally everyone to him but was cut off as the large man rocketed into the Crusader, fist first. Sent flying across the road and being thrown through multiple houses.

"Reinhardt!" Torbjörn screamed after him.

" _Son of a bitch!_ " Jesse snarled, clearing leather and firing upon the attacker.

The magnum revolver had little effect on him, the rounds pinging off a blue aura that seemed to have manifested around his large frame. The man then spun around and slammed his metal fist into the ground in front of him, the earth-shattering as it made it ways to the Gunslinger and threw him up into the air and off his feet. Immediately after, everyone retaliated by firing their weapons upon him. The partially-destroyed village engulfed into an even larger frenzy with Nathan's rifle, Lúcio's Amplifier, and Fareeha's rocket launcher among the weapons firing at the assailant. Their target betraying his stature and swiftly dodging their attacks or tanking them with no harm done to himself. His movements making the metal gauntlet seem weightless.

"Everyone, keep your distance and do not engage him directly!" Capt. Amari radioed to the entire team, strafing around the village and sending down rockets.

"Who the fuck is this guy?!" Nathan exclaimed, his Brush Gun thundering after every swing of the lever. The man shrugging off the .45-70's like they were BB's.

Unfortunately, that may have caught his target's attention as he looked over his shoulder and spun around to deliver another powerful punch with his fist. Brin narrowly dove out of the way, the attacker crashing into a home and demolishing its front walls. He didn't even have time to reorient himself when the bastard then  _uppercuts through the roof_ and flies up into the air. Spotting Nathan, he thrusts his fist towards him and flies down to the ground. Nathan rolls away, once again, the fist crashing into another building with more rubble falling. Rolling to his right, he gets up and levels the muzzle of his Brush Gun directly at the fist, getting off a few quick shots to disable the weapon. It achieved nothing, and the back of the golden fist swiped his entire body, sending him flying across the neighborhood. Landing on someone's partially collapsed roof.

Before he could do anything else, multiple sentry shots erupted and the fist turned around to see an assortment of defense systems set up along the road and pointed at him. Annoyed, the large African man ran towards the turrets, dodging and twisting out of the way of gunfire. Once he closed the distance, he swung an open palm in an arch and destroyed all the turrets in one fell swoop. Scrap flying in all directions. However, someone yelled from behind and Torbjörn jumped up on him and grappled the man's neck with his claw, proceeding to bang his hammer against his bald head. He winced, literally taking the Engineer's hammer head-on and a bit caught off-guard, but he quickly recovered when he reaches up with his gauntlet and grabbed the stout man and threw him off. Torbjörn screaming and about to crash into a wall until a field of blue energy woven like a net caught him, before slowly levitating him back down to the ground. Lindholm a bit wobbly on his feet as he turned around and regarded Vaswani, who made the net fade away with a wave.

"Are you well, Mr. Lindholm?" the Vishkar Architect asked.

"I'm fine!" the Engineer curtly responded, turning away as he grumbled. "But we need another plan, now!"

"Would a tactical retreat, suffice?"

"Retreat?! Running away from this isn't going to solve anything."

"I'm sure throwing more of your crude creations at him will fix the situation."

"'Crude'?!"

As the two argued, the aggressor took this as an opportunity and arched his fist back. Charging it as blue energy sparked around the metal. He let loose, the fist taking him to his target and he felt it impact but with no shattering. He opened his eyes, seeing there was a blue bubble of energy surrounding Torbjörn and Satya – who maintained the shield with her hands just in time.

"And may I suggest discussing this in a less precarious location?" the Architect proposed, maintaining the shield under the stress of repeated blows from the fist.

As the attacker kept pummeling the ball of energy to no avail, he jumped up high into the air and guided his fist directly down towards their shelter. Then, expertly gliding off walls that were still intact, Lúcio hopped and intersected their foe and blasted him into the building next door. Getting him away from them.

He landed on the floor next to them, the blue ball dissipating and revealing the occupants who took shelter.

"Yeah, I'm inclined to agree this time," the Musician stated, pointing to the rubble. "Cause I'm pretty sure he's just angrier now."

When the rubble stirred, Lúcio flipped his systems to green and ran to cover with Torbjörn. However, the Vishkar Architect stayed and began forming shapes out of the air again and constructing around the demolished site. Working fervidly to build a cage and hopefully contain the threat. Her tools combined with her technique building a formidable structure. It was a commendable effort, but futile as one punch was enough to break the cage and she had to quickly summon her shield again to block another powerful fist. The face of her attacker snarling inches from the transparent barrier. Then, the blue aura around him began to shudder as bullets bounced against it, turning to see the two men firing upon him, one in black armor and one in a red poncho.

They got his attention but didn't faze him much.

"Okay, now what?" McCree questioned.

Without another word, Nathan reaches to his backside and pulled out a glowing green plasma grenade. Tugging on the pin, he arched back and threw it towards the large man, knowing it was going to land at his feet. Waiting for the green plume to scorch his body, and hopefully, leave Vaswani relatively unscathed. His hopes were dashed in an instant when the gauntlet simply arched up and caught the grenade before it ultimately exploded  _inside_ his closed fist. It was still intact after it did, green vapor and goo stemming out from between the fingers.

Nathan was floored. The gauntlet-wielder simply smirked.

Not wasting another moment, the man grabbed the blue energy ball with his fist and lifted it with Vaswani still inside. Next, he spun and hurled the sphere towards them, Nathan barely having time to react as he reached out and caught Satya's flying body as the ball dissipated, sending them both to the ground.

Jet engines screeched overhead as Amari flew over their target and fired down at him, the rockets having more of an effect as he used his fist to shield him from the blasts. She spun around to have another pass, but that is when her target grabbed a large chunk of concrete from the ground and hurled it at her. Fareeha tried to veer out of the way but the rock nicked one of her wings and it began smoking. Soon enough, she began plummeting to the ground and towards Nathan and Jesse.

"McCree!" Nathan yelled, pointing to the falling Egyptian.

"I'm on it! I'm on it!" Jesse exclaimed.

The Cowboy scrambled and kept his eyes focused on his falling friend, before finally jumping up and grabbing onto her. Both dragged along the road. Her armor knocked the wind out of him, but he helped cushion her fall and give her a softer landing. Eventually, skidding to a stop and covered in dirt. The group did not have time to celebrate their success when a punch to the ground knocked them off their feet, and Nathan was swiped away and driven through a wall. He felt the large metallic hands wrap around his torso, constricted, and held in a vise. Then, having his entire body slammed to the ground and have pain rock throughout. His hand clawing at the metal. Seeing the attacker was much larger than the Wastelander.

"Come on, you piece of shit! Do it!" Nathan snarled, trying to gain any leverage but feeling like he was chained in stone.

The man only perked an eyebrow, tugging at the corner of his lip.

"Suffered through so little, and already giving up?" the man questioned, his voice a low pitch and in a cadence, sounding almost like the locals.

The man effortlessly picked Nathan up and slammed him against the wall, making cracks in the concrete.

"I heard you ask who I was? Do you not  _really_  know?" the man with the fist questioned, looking at him earnestly in the eye.

"I know you're a fucking asshole. That seems obvious," the Courier responded, snarling under his mask

"Hmm… I figured you would at least keep up with current events, because of how much in the spotlight you and your friends are. Always hearing about Overwatch and the 'Man in Black Armor'. That title is quite a mouthful, you should shorten it to make it easier for the public to read on their holovids. It can roll off the tongue, easier, as well. Makes it easier to  _remember_  you."

"Fuck you…"

"Not much of a conversationalist, are you? I hope you're a better fighter."

Suddenly, the Courier's right arm swung out from his back and bared the heavy gauntlet of his own Ballistic Fist, on a course for his bald head. Unfortunately, the man's augmented left arm stopped it from reaching his face but sets off the pressure plate and getting a shotgun blast in his face. The blast was powerful enough to penetrate his shield but not kill him, as his face, neck, and parts of his arm had wounds. Where Nathan could see exposed metal and wire in place of blood and flesh, learning he wasn't the only cyborg around this neighborhood.

The larger cyborg then retaliated by grabbing his wrist and applying pressure with his left palm, making Nathan gasp and wince in agony as he felt the shotguns barrels and the metal surrounding his wrist get crushed and dig into his skin. His bones getting close to snapping.

And he would've broken his wrist in two if someone didn't then smash a block of rebar over his bald head.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Brigitte wielding a makeshift rebar club and rearing to give another swing.

"Let him go!" she screamed, midway through getting another swing in but the metal gauntlet turned and threw her and Nathan across the room. The two flopping on each other.

Their foe then cracking his neck and knuckles.

"I did not come here for you,  _girl_ ," he said, pumping his gauntlet into a fist, and getting ready to annihilate her.

However, before he could even move an inch closer, the walls caved in and he was seized in a Crusader's large metal hand that held him against the ground as the power armor skirted across the ground.

"You. Will. Not. Touch. HER!" Reinhardt roared, dragging him through dirt, rocks, and concrete. Then, stretching his arm out and carrying him through multiple brick walls before stopping and chucking his body into a spare building, nearly toppling it from the force.

While her Godfather took care of that, Brigitte helped Nathan up and immediately saw what happened to the Waster's right hand.

"Oh my God, are you all right? We need to get you some help, right now!"

"I'm fine…"

"Angela would not call this 'fine'!" she exclaimed, pointing to his wrist and the mangled metal sinking into it. "Come on, I'm getting you out of here."

"What about that fucking bastard?!"

"We'll worry about him later, let's just go!"

She grabbed his non-broken arm and hoisted him over her shoulders, helping him get up and guiding him to outside where the others were. Nathan winced through the pain he felt in his wrist and in his ankles. Despite that, he felt a bit relieved someone came to his aide.

"That was really fuckin' ballsy of you," he said, grunting through the pain. "Taking that sonofabitch on your own. With rebar, no less."

"I haven't had the greatest of role models," she quipped, smirking for a moment but wincing as she focused on hauling the large Waster. "I just hope they're doing okay."

She said that just as they walked out into the open and saw Reinhardt and their adversary were fighting it out on the street, the Crusader prepared this time. Brigitte's father was there, as well, providing back-up for his German friend. However, even after everything they had thrown at him, the man with the fist still seemed ready to go another dozen rounds with the team. Almost in disbelief at how long he lasted against them. They're shock making them oblivious to the mechanical gallops from behind.

"Hello!"

They all turned around to see Orisa was back, her eyes forming upward-pointing arrows. As if oblivious to what had transpired in the past hour.

"Oh, no…" Nathan let out aloud.

"Orisa! You're back!" Lúcio exclaimed, skating up to her in a hurry.

"Of course!" Orisa cantered over to them, her eyes switching back to their natural circular shape. "I had received the distress call and ran here as fast as my navigation systems could allow."

"'Distress call?' What distress call?"

They got cut off as Reinhardt was thrown to a pile of rubble on his back, with Torbjörn running over to help him up. Everyone else looked back to the perpetrator and saw the large dark man with the fist still sparkling with energy. Those who still could hold them drew their weapons and pointed it at him. He didn't so much as flinch.

"A musician and an architect… Really?" he questioned, almost sounding in disbelief himself. " _That_  is who is left standing? I honestly had higher expectations than this. Would hate to leave disappointed."

"Orisa, you better get the others and go," Nathan said, clutching his wrist and trying to get the glove off. "…Orisa?"

The robot centaur did the exact opposite and walked further into town. Towards the man in the middle of the village, walking by the others and not missing a beat in her step. As soon as she got in front of Lúcio and the others, her eyes clicked into two solid, horizontal lines. Making her look like she was glaring at her foe. He looked at her with sullen interest, so brazen and foolish. Even for a machine.

"Ah, the little girl's toy pet. I don't have time for this…" he said, winding up his fist.

" _Doomfist_!" the Guardian Omnic bellowed, the internal speakers operating at the maximum setting. "You are trespassing on- Ah!"

The poor thing couldn't even finish as the villain rocketed into her head-on and she was knocked straight into a building, then having it topple over her. "Doomfist" flicked his wrist to get the excess dust off as he watched the rubble pile on her. Barely broken a sweat from that.

"Wait… That's  _'Doomfist'_?! That's his fucking name?!" Nathan questioned aloud, bringing almost all eyes on him.

"Hmph," a bit of air escaped Doomfist's nose, his eyes focused on the rubble, before turning around to face Overwatch once again. "Name's can be deceiving, but I assure you, not everything is what it seems-"

Suddenly, a powerful metallic fist erupted from the pile of rubble he had created and sent him tumbling across the street. Catching everyone by surprise, especially Doomfist. However, he quickly recovered and got to his feet. Now snarling towards the newest opponent in the ring.

Rising from the rubble with only a few scratches on her paint, Orisa walked out onto the street to face Doomfist once more. Shaking her head and body like a dog to shake the dust off.

"That was not very nice!" she scolded, her eyes clicking into a scowl, again.

Doomfist only growled as he arched up his fist once more, making more energy spark around the gauntlet before launching forward at breakneck speeds towards her. However, upon impact, he was stopped in his tracks as Orisa's metal palm caught his large fist. Her entire body now fortified in a sheen of gold.

Orisa then swiftly propped herself up and kicked Doomfist away with her front legs. After giving herself breathing room, her right arm opened and fired upon him. Machine gun fire pelting the broad side of his golden fist. Advancing ever so slowly and trying to close the distance.

"You will surrender to the people of Numbani and-!"

Doomfist this then rocketed up into the air with an uppercut and reoriented himself to dive directly into the Omnic, but a rocket hammer batted him away like a fly. Reinhardt stepping in front of her with his hammer and the shield at the ready.

"Good one, Orisa! Efi built you well," the Crusader complimented, not letting his guard down. "Come! The odds have tipped in our favor, let us not waste the opportunity."

"You got it! Come on, everyone!" Lúcio exclaimed, rushing ahead of everyone and speeding away on his skates. Satya and even Torbjörn following suit.

"Not bad! Well, for a machine…"

As they went on to continue the fight, Brigitte helped Nathan get to cover while McCree did the same for Fareeha. Eventually situating themselves by the village entrance where the van was parked along with crates of relief supplies. Brigitte set Nathan down first, next to some large crates.

"I'm gonna head inside the van and get the med-kit. Don't do anything rash, will you?" the Mechanic asked of him, Nathan nodding in response.

As she ran back to get the meds, Manuel ran up and gently held his afflicted arm out to look at it. Examining the damage done to him.

"Shit, dude, you're messed up real good," Manuel stated.

"I've noticed," Nathan grumbled.

He felt it sting like hell every time he slightly moved his hand. Pain somewhat subsiding when he stilled, even as his arm slightly trembled.

Nathan could still hear things raging on behind him, back in the village, and he poked his head out from the corner to see the rest of the team taking on Doomfist. Faring much better than earlier and with more success. Reinhardt and Orisa dealing the heavy damage and taking most of the blows, Lúcio encircling their foe as Satya shielded them when needed, and Torbjörn laying down machines to hinder his movements and fighting ability. Doomfist was still holding on his own and things didn't look certain. Brin watched as the large African man was able to evade all their attacks for one moment, getting closer to Orisa before uppercutting her and making her fly. Following up with a punch and knocking into the ground.

" _Huh!"_

A meek little gasp suddenly appeared out of nowhere, Nathan immediately distracted from the fight and looking around to discern where that came from. He was only distracted again for a moment when he looked back and saw the four-legged Omnic get back on her feet and charge into the fray, once more.

"Did you hear that?" Nathan asked aloud.

"Yeah…" Manuel said, staring at something to their right.

Nathan looked and saw a big rectangular crate that they had unloaded when they got to the village. They were other crates and boxes around it, but none of them were large enough to fit a person… Not even a girl.

Manuel got up and stepped over to the front of the crate. He bent down, putting his ear directly on top of it and trying to listen for anything. Nathan soon joining him. They hovered there for a few seconds, long enough for Brigitte to come back and wonder what was going on. Finally, Manuel got up and opened the latch, flipping the lid open to find Efi Oladele stashed inside. Her eyes becoming as wide as plates and holding a holopad close to her chest.

"Umm… Hello?" Efi meekly greeted, feigning a smile.

Nathan said nothing as he just narrowed his eyes at the young girl in the box, making that smile of hers slowly turn into a grimace.

"Am… I in trouble?" the little girl meekly asked.

"What do you think?" the adult man asked.

That was when Fareeha, Jesse, and Brigitte also came up to peer inside the box. The three other adults visibly surprised.

"What are you doing in there? You were supposed to wait back home!" Amari exclaimed.

"I know but-" Efi began, stumbling on her words. "I j-just wanted to see Orisa work in the field. To make sure she would be okay and that she would function properly for this mission.

"But this is a dangerous place, especially for a child. Why would you do this?"

"I just didn't want Orisa to be alone. And…"

"And what?"

"…I just wanted to see you guys in action for myself. Come on the mission and work with you guys for a day."

Amari's stern demeanor faltered for a second, frowning as she thought about what the little inventor said. Knowing from the second she met Reinhardt that she held her and her colleagues in very high esteem. A lot of young people like her did. Why else would Orisa be out there, fighting the bane of Numbani alongside her friends?

"Oh, kid, you got heart and brains, but you don't seem to use 'em together that much," Nathan said, shaking his head.

"Well, she's got spirit. Can't deny that," Jesse added on, looking at her. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know who sent out that 'distress call' would you?"

"Oh, that was me!" Efi answered, her eyes lighting up as she stood up with her holopad in hand. "I was the one who summoned Orisa back when I heard the fight with Doomfist start. I knew we couldn't miss an opportunity to help like this. Look, I even updated some of her subroutines just now to make sure she would be extra prepared for the fight!"

She turned her holopad around to show the five a set of readings, graphs, and numbers that not all of them could wrap their heads around. Also seeing on the holopad was a first-person view from Orisa, literally broadcasting the current fight live to her screen. Doomfist prominently showcased within it. However, it looked like the omnic was in some trouble as her opponent delivered a flurry of attacks that made the video feed shake. Her creator quickly lost that smile.

"Oh no!" she shouted, then suddenly hopping out of the crate and running out towards village.

"Oh shit, hey!" Nathan shouted after, running after her but tripping over a stray piece of equipment.

Quickly getting back up, he and McCree ran after Oladele, surprisingly fast and already taking them halfway to the fight. They stopped when they noticed she had stopped as well and was fervidly tapping against her holopad and watching the fight at the same time.

"Kid, what are you…?"

"Okay, deploy your barrier!" she spoke to the holopad, focused tapped on icons in the screen. "Wait, and don't shoot too fast… Now, fortify!"

They watched as Orisa did everything Efi told her to do, simultaneously attacking Doomfist. As the omnic strafed, attacked and deployed defensive measures, Doomfist was having a harder time trying to keep up with the machine and the rest of the team. Every punch, uppercut, and slam he tried to deliver either being countered or denied. Every blow he'd land either softened or nullified by armor or shields. Everyone doing their part to keep him on his toes. Despite all of that, it looked like it would be awhile until he and his big fist get taken down. Unless they had something to do about it.

"Okay, kid keep doing what you're doing," Nathan said, crouching down next to her and swinging his pack around. "McCree, can you shoot?"

"Is that a question?" the Gunslinger replied.

After rummaging through his pack for a few more seconds, he retrieved the shiny casing of a Pulse Grenade. Efi looked over and immediately recognized the device, then grinning when she started thinking what that entailed.

"Ooh, I like this plan already, mister!" the little inventor said.

"Good, because you're gonna make sure he doesn't stay too close to the others, and when you do," Nathan stood up to regard Jesse. "I'm gonna throw this at him and you're gonna shoot it. Doable?"

"That thing, at fifty meters?" McCree asked, before smirking and pulling out Peacemaker. "Just say the word."

The Waster nodded, standing and yanking out the pin with his teeth but keeping a grip on the spoon. Watching the fight play out in front of them, watching how the man with the ridiculous name evaded Reinhardt's hammer, broke through Satya's shields, and crushed Torbjörn's machines. Waiting to give them one more edge to tip the balance.

"Now!"

After that, Efi yelled a command making Orisa fire a ball of salmon-colored energy into the air until it collapsed on itself and pulled Doomfist up to it. At the same time, Nathan arched back and hurled the grenade to the sky with his left-arm, but the grenade still was able to hit its mark as McCree shot at it and detonated it directly on their target. The field of Pulse Energy made him wince and became powerless to do anything as he then plummeted to the Earth, weighed down by his large fist. With a loud thud, he landed in the middle of the demolished village in a plume of dust and dirt. Things weren't completely out of commission as he was able to get on his knees and balance his heavy fist on the ground, but the sparks around his arm and the dimming red lights over his augmented body betrayed any notion of getting on top.

Footsteps began to gather all around him and he was eventually surrounded by most of the agents of Overwatch plus a girl and her project. A lot of weapons pointed at him. Then, stepping in front of him, the "Man in Black Armor" pulled out his handgun and held it directly against his head.

"Anything else to say, dickhead?" Nathan asked, trying to restrain himself from popping one in his head.

Doomfist only rolled his eyes, sighing heavily as he looked at his fist.

"Yes," he said, looking up at him straight in the eye without a worry in the world. "I've learned what I needed to know here. And you shouldn't use the same trick twice."

Before anyone could even question what that meant, his fist suddenly surged with energy and pounded the floor with force of an earthquake. Making everyone stumble and Nathan fire off a round into the air. As everyone lost their footing, Doomfist used up the last pockets of energy he had and launched himself into the sky.

" _Meteorstrike!_ "

When he landed back on the ground, again, everything became a blur as the road was thrown into the air. The last thing Nathan sees is Orisa running to Efi and grabbing her, shielding her from the falling rubble.

* * *

Things were dark for a while, Nathan just alone with his thoughts as he watched the dark ceiling above. Listening to his breath brush against the walls surrounding him, listening to the earth shift above him. Feeling confined and constricted in this tomb of rubble and dirt. It could've been for a few minutes or maybe even a few seconds, but it felt like he was entombed for hours in the dark. Feeling every fleeting moment of it. Being back in the ground.

Which is why when the large slab of stone shifted, and a minute sliver of light got through, a wave of silent relief overcame the Courier almost to the point of joy.

The slab twisted and stirred for a few more moments until the giant metal hands finally moved it away, letting the sunshine through the hole. Blinding at first, but Nathan's eyes quickly adjusted to see Manuel poke his head over the hole to look inside. He began to call people over to him, telling them he had found Nathan. Eventually, Orisa's and Reinhardt's heads poked through, too, and they helped scoop up more rubble from the pile and get Nathan out from there. After they did, Reinhardt reached down, and Nathan grabbed his metal forearm and lifted himself back up to ground level. Covered in dirt and grime. With his good arm, he reached up and took off his helmet, breathing in fresh air as he looked around and saw what the village had become: a crater.

Exhausted, Nathan patted Manuel on the shoulder before walking across the ruined street back to the van. Watching his step as he walked over pieces of rubble as large as his leg. Almost wanting to put his helmet back on to not breathe in the dust that was still in the air. It was a short walk, back at the entrance and finding the others near the van. All of them tuckered out and ready to get out of here, as well.

Captain Amari was one of the few still on their feet, shedding her damaged power armor and wearing her skinsuit. Her eyes on her holopad when Nathan walked over to where she was.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Nope," Nathan responded. "Where the hell did that fucker go?"

"He got picked up by a dropship after he created the crater. He is long gone."

"Typical. Now what?"

"Now we go back home and report what happened. Something we certainly shouldn't neglect to tell Winston and the others."

"Yeah, some fuckhead with a fist is back, I guess…"

"Yup."

They stood in silence for a few moments, just tired.

"How're you holding up?" Nathan asked.

"Could be better," Fareeha admitted. "Jesse needs his arm reattached, Reinhardt's armor is all banged up, and I'm going to have to explain to my mother that I accidentally let a child into battle."

She was silent for a few more moments after she recited her most recent woes before she just broke out into a fit of laughter. It was short and quaint, finishing as quickly as it began. Nathan staring at her, as if he had seen a different person.

"Cowboy's still all right, ain't he?" he asked.

"Yes, but we still have other crap to worry about," she grumbled walking over to the wall with a bunch of crates. "We have to haul all of this back to the checkpoint, but we barely have enough room in the van. Got any suggestion?"

Nathan looked at the crates – quite a few of them – but heard feet stomping behind him to see Orisa walking side-by-side with Rein. The Wastelander noting the bottom half of her body.

"You got any rope?"

A few minutes later, after retrieving some rope from the van and gathering up all the crates they had, Nathan – with help of other who had both arms still functioning - had bundled and tied most of the crates and supplies all over Orisa's body. Packed into tight and neat "baggage" over her backside. The remaining that couldn't be stored on her person were put on a makeshift sled made from a dish and some spare wood, hauled by her as more rope tied it to her. Orisa upper body spun around on its axis to get a better look at the set-up, not quite sure to make of this new "job". Meanwhile, Efi was laughing at the sight.

"I must say, these are some pretty good knots," Reinhardt commented, tugging at the rope. "Quite an interesting talent you have there."

"Something you pick up on the road," Nathan responded, looking at Orisa and can't help but to be amused. "Heh, she does kinda look like a Pack Brahmin."

"Excuse me, a pack  _what_?" the Indian Architect suddenly asked, surprised to hear that title used that way.

Everyone barring looked at Nathan when he said that, but some of them more confused than others. The Waster losing his smile and trying to think fast.

"Oh, uh, that's what we call 'cows' where I'm from. I know, it's kinda odd," the New Californian explained.

"Really? I never heard cows referred to as that when I was touring in Cali," Lúcio stated, furrowing his brow. "And I saw a ton of them!"

"According to my databases, cattle have not been used to transport goods and valuables in the Western United States since the 1800's. Is it still a common occurrence over there?" Orisa then asked, tilting her head at him.

"Yeah, at least the rural, bumfuck parts I'm from."

"Hmm, interesting. Thank you for the information. Updating my databases."

The New Californian groaned, just wanting to go back home.


	48. Frustrated Imposition

Winston's Lab, Watchpoint: Gibraltar

2076

The New Overwatch wasn't taking Doomfist's return particularly well.

They weren't pleased about hearing him break out of his cell sometime prior, and they weren't enthused when he had gotten his fist back and terrorized Numbani sometime later, but now – after engaging directly in combat with the Talon overseer and having their asses largely handed to them – they weren't happy.

Evident by how as soon as the agents abroad returned home, there was an impromptu meeting held within their pseudo-commander's office. Fareeha and Winston being there, of course, but Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Lena, and a few others of varying relevance also present. Ana and Jack were also there and at least one of them actively participated in the meeting. However, it quickly devolved into a heated debate as arguing on all sides erupted. Loud enough for it to be heard from the floor below.

Nathan could hear it, waiting and sitting at one of the holodesks below. He occasionally listened, overhearing some choice words and ideas being expressed in the discussion. Not really giving it his undivided attention as he was in the middle of a conversation of his own. One that was more pleasant as he told a story to Dr. Ziegler about a scar on his arm. The Doctor listening as she attended to newer wounds on his forearm, of course.

"Ah!" Nathan winced, sharp pain stinging through his forearm.

"Sorry!" Dr. Ziegler immediately apologized, going back to picking bits of metal out of his skin with specialized tweezers, her other gloved hand gently holding him still.

"It's alright, Doc. As I was saying," he went on with his story, the pain fading away as he got enamored with his own words as he recounted a tale long ago. "I was traveling along the road when I decided to rest for a while. Found a little camp spot a ways from the road. So, I set up my bedroll in one of the old tents, lay my pack to the side, and decided to sleep for the night. And as I was getting awfully close to dozing off, a goddamn Bark Scorpion skitters inside looking for food."

"A scorpion? This wound seems too big, though," the Swiss Doctor said, looking at a sizable circular blemish near his elbow.

"They were small, once, before they mutated and became bigger than Brigitte's cat."

"Ugh, I can't imagine being on the same planet as those things!"

"Imagine getting stung by one. One hell of a rude awakening."

"So, what happened next?"

"Nearly unloaded an entire mag into the damn thing with a 9mm. Thankfully, its venom gland was still intact, and I was quick to whip up some antivenom with what I had. Got some dinner out of it, too."

"You ate the scorpion?!"

"Uh… Yeah! They taste good if prepared right."

The blonde doctor grimaced in disgust but chuckled at the same time, raising the back of her gloved hand to her face. The Waster smiled, glad to see she wasn't completely revolted before dutifully attending to his wounds again. Slightly more carefully this time. Nathan paying attention to how focused she was as she picked out more fragments from his scarred forearm. Bearing through the pain, as minor as it was.

"I really have to start keeping track of these. Will make it easier to repay the debt I owe you," Nathan tasked himself, sighing.

"Debt?" Angela asked, already shaking her head. "Nathan, I'm certain we've had this conversation, before. You don't need to worry yourself about such things, okay? I'm a doctor. Making sure my patients are okay is enough for me."

"Yeah, but the lengths I've seen you go through and the shit you've put up with? I've been under you care more times than any other doctor, and that's saying something. It's a bit much, isn't it?"

"Oh, trust me. It's been like this for a  _long_  time and I doubt things will change anytime soon. Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Noted."

He watched her pick at his forearm more, observing and feeling tiny bits of metal get removed from his skin. The blood-covered pieces dropped into a tin container. However, her patient couldn't help but notice the discussion being held upstairs and the volume getting higher in some instances. No conversation about radscorpions to drown the noise out.

"Sounds like things are heating up…" he pointed out the obvious.

"Yes, it does," she concurred, not letting it distract her.

Even as she brushed it off to focus on tending to her patient, Nathan could see the hint of worry on her. That determined face a bit sullen as time went on. The medical professional did a good job of hiding it, though. He didn't like it, especially since this was something he easily could've done on his own. Yet, Dr. Ziegler wasted no time getting her tools and supplies the second he stepped off the dropship. He never had to ask for it, either.

"You know, if you want, you can go up and join them," Nathan suggested. "They might need a mediator. Someone to ensure things don't get too out of control. Especially the Amari's. They might need the 'good doctor'."

Angela could only close her eyes as she exhaled through her nose. Knowing that he meant well, even if it wasn't in his best interests to do so.

"Nathan…" Dr. Ziegler let out, casting her gaze up to earnestly look him in the eyes. "How many times must I remind you? I can only be a 'good doctor' if I make sure all my patients get the treatment they need, including you. Which means I am not going to stop until I am done, and I can ensure you have a clean bill of health."

"Well, I don't have a doctorate like you, but I can take care of the rest of this just fine. I've handled worse on my travels."

"I'm sure you have, but whether or not you have a medical degree is the least of my concerns. My concern is that I am the doctor and you are my patient; I am patching you up and making sure you stay that way. Nothing is going to change that, Nathan. Am I understood?"

"I'm just saying I-"

" _Am I understood?_ " Dr. Angela Ziegler repeated, her voice much more assertive than the moment before.

Her sudden change in tone making the New Californian Waster look at the blonde Swiss Doctor in the eye. Not breaking eye-contact for the duration of the silence that ensued for a long moment.

"Yes, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan Brin simply nodded, regarding her blue eyes.

"Thank you, Nathan," Angela Ziegler responded, smiling to reassure him. "Besides," she says as she went back to the cuts on his arm. "If I went up there, I'm sure the bickering would only increase two-fold."

Her patient only smiled and nodded in understanding. His eyes veering down to his arm and watching her gloved hands take more pieces of metal out. Her hands as still as an Auto-Doc's. Inflicting a minimal amount of pain.

Eventually, as the meeting raged on, Genji walked down the stairs and spotted Nathan and Angela. The Doctor's back to him as she tended to the Waster.

"Good afternoon, Angela," the Cyborg greeted as he got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Hello, Genji," the Doctor greeted, looking over her shoulder. "Had enough of the 'meeting', have you?"

"Yes. Such things are more for my brother to withstand. Saddening to see everyone in such irritated spirits. Although, it's not hard to see why."

"Maybe you or Zenyatta should teach them how to meditate? I'm sure that can help set their minds at ease," she then suggested with a lighthearted smirk.

"Hah! That'll be the day I teach McCree to do such a thing."

Genji got closer to the table, besides Angela, and looked for himself what the doctor was conducting. Already aware who was responsible for the damage incurred.

"And what of you, Brin? How are you faring?" Genji asked.

"I really wanna get drunk, to be honest," Nathan admitted, leaning against the table as he watched his arm. "But I'm in good hands, Shimada."

"I agree. I can always count on Angela," the Cyborg Ninja expressed, placing a grateful hand on the Doctor's shoulders. The two exchanging cheery glances before he lifted his metal hand off.

Finally, after what seemed like ages of picking metal out of skin, Dr. Ziegler got the last piece and dropped it into the tin cup. Taking a sigh of relief as the hard part of the job was done. Without missing a beat, she began sterilizing the dozen tiny wounds and cuts before reaching for her staff to accelerate the healing process. After catching nothing but air in her fingers, she looked to see her staff nowhere to be seen beside her, then groaning as she realized she had forgotten it in her office.

" _Ach, Gopfertammi!_ I'm sorry, I'll go get it," she apologized, removing her gloves and about to get off her chair until Nathan rose his left hand.

"Now hold on! You're already here and won't do any favors running there and back," her patient said, reaching to his pants and pulling something from it. "Here, use this, it'll be quick," he states as he holds out a Stimpak to her, the needle pointing away.

"Oh, Nathan, I can't. You-"

"I've got plenty. Just use it. It's quick, simple, and sanitary."

"Nathan… The casing's rusty!"

"Doesn't mean shit, trust me. Shimada can vouch."

Dr. Ziegler frowned as she reached over and grabbed the syringe by the vial. Examining it to see the pressure gauge's needle in the green and a red concoction seen through viewing pane. The needle for injection open to the air.

"Just jab it wherever and press the two buttons below the gauge until it hits the red. Chems should do the rest," the Wastelander explained, reorienting himself and his arm for her.

Casting a somewhat unsure glance towards the Pre-War syringe, Dr. Ziegler sat up and held Nathan's wrist with one hand and the Stimpak in the other. Hovering it inches above his skin, she inserts the hypodermic needle inside – where it was safe – and presses the buttons, resulting in a hiss emanating from it. The red contents being injected into him as the vial emptied. When it was done, she retracted the needle from his arm and watched as the dozen or so cuts and wounds began to heal before their eyes. All without the help of nanotechnology. Much of the skin closing as if there was no wound, but there were a few new scars.

"See? Simple as that." Nathan said as he lifted his arm and examined the skin.

"I'll stick with my staff for now," Angela admitted, albeit impressed. "Nanomachines aren't as scary as needles."

"Still works."

The meeting above had adjourned, and the attendants were walking down the stairs. Some of their faces wrinkled in anger or frustration, some still bickering amongst each other in hushed tones, and others unsure about what the meeting's subject would entail for the near future. The rest just relieved that it had ended.

Angela got up from her seat as they walked by, while Nathan sat there and watched them go. When Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Ana, and Jack walked by, she approached them and ask if they were all right, to which the men responded with varying forms of "yes". Ana, however, just told the younger woman to not worry and walked away with a quaint smile.

Fareeha was one of the last to file out of Winston's office, and Angela approached her just the same. They spoke to each other in Arabic, but Nathan didn't need to know any of the words to understand that Dr. Ziegler was trying to comfort her friend, possibly offering her to talk in her office. Fareeha smiling and nodding, most likely thanking her before walking away.

Meanwhile, Genji was conversing with Hanzo, who had also attended the meeting despite not being with Overwatch for long. He talked with his brother in Japanese, their conversation also unintelligible to the Wastelander. They spoke in a more hushed tone as if trying to be conspicuous about the subject while speaking in an entirely different language. The Archer never cracking a smile or anything other than a slight scowl throughout it. Genji probably the same. Only other thing Nathan could recognize in their conversation were several mentions of a " _Doomfist-o_ ". That was to be expected. Hanzo nodded to Genji and left, with purpose in his steps. Unbeknownst to the scowling Wastelander staring at him until he left.

Then, Winston and Lena appeared at the top of the stairs.

"We'll get him, big guy, I promise," Lena said to him.

"I know you will," Winston smiled at her. "And when we do, just… Promise me you'll be careful. Okay?"

"Of course, who do you think you're talking to?"

"Hmph."

"Oh, don't be like that. Come on, let's go to the pub! That'll cheer you up, won't it?"

"I've still got a lot of work to do, Tracer. Maybe later."

Her cheery demeanor frowned after her friend had declined, but she knew it was for the best.

"Have it your way. Oi, Genji!" Lena called out before blinking to ground level next to them. "Wanna nip on over to the pub?"

"Sure, the meeting has made me thirsty," Genji responded, then looking at Dr. Ziegler. "Would you care to join us, Angela?"

"You know what… Sure! Why not?" the Swiss woman happily accepted, putting away her supplies. "I definitely need a break after this day. I'm sure everyone does. What about you, Nathan? Do you want to come along? You mentioned wanting to get drunk earlier. Of course, I have to make sure you don't do anything bad if you do."

The Courier looked at her, not expecting to be a part of the conversation so casually. They waited on him for a response as he adjusted himself in his chair. Looking down at his freshly healed wrist.

"Actually, I take back my previous statement, then," Nathan said, sighing. "I just feel tired more than anything. Think I'll head to my quarters after this. Thanks for the offer, though, doctor."

"Suit yourself, mate," Lena said, then grabbing her friends. "Come on let's go!"

Somewhat in a hurry because of the pace the bubbly Brit was setting, Genji and Angela made their way towards the rocky cavern exit, together. However, the blonde turned and waved to Nathan. They left, leaving him and Winston in the lab. Nathan not really wanting to get up from the chair and just sit there for a while. Be alone with his own thoughts as he rested his head on his hands.

Winston stood at the top of the stairs, watching Nathan sit there and do not much anything else. Shutting his eyes as if he was on the verge of falling asleep. The genetically-modified Giant Gorilla spotting that someone was having a hard week. One of many, really. He walked down the stairs, thinking what old Commander Morrison would say at a moment like this as he cleared his throat.

"I know things recently have been difficult, Brin," Winston began, casting glances to see Nathan not moving. "They have been for a lot of people. Fareeha, Ana, Reinhardt, Lena, and Angela, just to name a few. But it's our job. And a lot of people are still counting on us, even if they don't know it. Take any rest you need, Brin. I'll inform you when there's a mission on the way."

"No."

Winston stopped, turning to see Nathan looking at him. A tested temper in his eyes.

"Uh-what?" he questioned, caught off-guard.

"You heard what I said," the Courier growled, lifting his head off his hands to reveal a snarl.

"Uhm… W-why-?"

"Why?  _Why?!_ " the Courier yelled, almost getting up from his seat. "You're the one who plans them, you should know! For the past couple of months, I've been thrown around this damn world, jumping from continent to continent – Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia! Every other mission I've been shot at, cut up, my ass nearly blown up, and recently had some bald asshole with a fist throw me around like a doll! Literally having a visit with poor Dr. Ziegler every. Other. Mission."

Nathan got up from his chair and began pacing back and forth. Running his hands through his hair as he was exasperated.

"And throughout this crazy-ass adventure I've found myself in, I do not feel any closer to finding my only ticket back home. Back to the Mojave  _I know!_ " he barked, pointing a thumb to himself. "If Overwatch is supposed to be this world-renowned organization that once held the world on its shoulder, helped the winds and oceans blow, then why the fuck haven't we found my Transportalponder?! It has a yellow back cap, a little antenna on top, a red cap over its trigger, and encases a cathode ray tube with blue sparks going off in it. How hard can it be to find, especially since these Talon fuckheads seem to have it?"

The Courier didn't bother facing Winston for that question as he didn't bother for an answer. Not even expecting one from his "commander" anyway. Blood rushing through his head, almost making him deaf. Only hearing and feeling his artificial heart thump in his chest. He still felt the frustration inside even after he let out that tirade. The release inadequate to do anything for him.

"At this point, I'm not sure if I even care anymore… I'm just tired," the old Wastelander confessed, breathing like he ran across the breadth of the Mojave. From Goodsprings to Vegas.

He stood there, expecting his "contract" to now be broken from that little rant and sent back to the prison cell for Overwatch to make sure he doesn't wander anywhere. To make sure he doesn't do anything rash. To make sure the violent, irritable, Waster wasn't up to anything. Waiting for the ape to respond.

"Okay," Winston calmly said.

Nathan turned on his heels at the ape.

"No more missions," Winston clarified, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "If you don't want to keep getting shot at, thrown around, or blown up… Fine. I understand. Any reasonable person who listened to what you said would. It's hard, I know, but I guess it was wrong of me to assume people can deal with their frustrations like me."

His gaze dropped to his hands, going deep into thought at the questions posed to him. What they meant for him.

"I'm… just surprised it took you this long to even say anything about it. Mission after mission, you came back in progressively worse conditions than the missions before. Yet, you kept accepting. I wasn't aware of the toll they took on you. I'm sorry."

Silence reigned in the lab, once more. Neither parties willing to say anything, but for different reasons.

"Tell him about the news, Winston," Athena joined, everywhere in the room.

"The what?" Nathan asked.

"Oh, yes! Of course," Winston went over to the same holodeck that Nathan was leaning against and pressed a few buttons, creating multiple holoscreens displaying still images of news broadcasts and articles. "You've been helping make some positive headlines recently! Err, well, depending on how you look at it."

Nathan looked at the bright screens, the holograms staring right at him. Big bold letters that made it easy to read. Many of them were just about the "New Overwatch", questions of who, why, where, and what. However, some headlines had a positive undertone to them, with words such as "save", "help", and "hope". Many images highlighting the agents of Overwatch, like Oxton, Winston, and Reinhardt, but for some of them, he was in the shot. The headlines riddled with the "Man in Black Armor". One holoimage caught his eye, spotting himself with his old duster still in good condition as it showed him fighting off the giant omnic in Numbani. Tracer, Lúcio, and even Orisa somewhere in the shot, as well. The headline catching his eye, next.

"Numbani Saved by the New Overwatch; the Man in Black Armor Seen Once Again."

'That is quite a mouthful,' Nathan Brin surmised to himself.

"Your efforts certainly haven't gone unnoticed here. And certainly not out there," Winston stated, coming around the table as he looked at the projection. "So, if you want to take an indefinite leave from missions… That's fine."

"What about my Transportalponder?" the Courier questioned further, those headlines meaning nothing to him.

The Gorilla's lips thinned, then he went back to the front of the table and pressed more buttons.

"Athena, can you please pull up all captured Talon documents, dating from the day we…  _met_  Nathan to now," he requested.

"Of course, Winston," Athena responded, an array of hologram screens appearing in front of them and drowning out the news headlines.

Dozens of documents, images, papers, emails, etc., being summoned at will and displayed to them. Nathan examining every single one. He noticed some of them were tagged with the names of places he recognizes, places they were taken from King's Row, Giza, and Oasis. Some other places, however, he didn't recognize. Their names forming the bulk of the list. Seeing they have been doing intel gathering of their own without him.

"Search for any references you can find regarding his device. Anything from the physical description he just described to its teleportation capabilities. Anything."

Without saying another word, the text on the holoscreens began to "move" and "scroll" in their windows, thousands of words going by faster than they could intelligibly read. Many of the documents only took a millisecond or two to be perused through, but others took much longer and didn't stop until a good minute had passed. Winston waited as Nathan stood there and watched the holoscreens, his eyes scrutinizing all the information he could take in. It all ended when the movement stopped and another holoscreen appeared displaying the number zero.

"No results found, Nathan. I'm sorry," Athena told him.

"And it's been like that everywhere we looked," Winston added as he pushed up his glasses. "Everywhere and anywhere we could send scouts and reconnaissance teams. Wherever Talon and their cohorts had a noticeable presence. Even Fareeha's men in Helix have been giving us some intel from time to time, as much as they could. But even with all of that we… Haven't made as much progress as we'd like."

The Scientist looked away at that moment to stare at the floor, again, sighing as the simple thought of the lack of progress they've made frustrates him. Nathan standing there and staring at the big, fat zero.

"Why?" the Courier questioned.

"You… you said it yourself," the Scientist stated. "You've been to four continents in this world, saw more things than most people would ever dream to see. You've seen how surprisingly big this planet of ours can be. Imagine trying to find something here, too. And if there's one thing Talon is good at doing, it's hiding like cowards."

The Gorilla glowered after that last sentence, feeling even more frustrated mentioning them for what seemed like the umpteenth time today. His head starting to hurt, a little. Nathan stood there looking at the holoscreens, silently thinking and knowing full well how hard it can be to find something in a place so big. Having been there many times, before. Other than that, the Wastelander felt… Unmoved. Not as disconcerted by the news as others in Overwatch would think. Not as much as  _he_ would've thought. Learning that didn't bother him all that much, given the circumstances. Maybe he was getting too used to living here.

Footsteps echoed across the door as someone walked in, unaware of the conversation that was held just a minute prior. Nathan immediately spotted him and watched through the holograms as the man walked up to Winston. The Courier became much more expressive as he couldn't believe who he laid his eyes on.

"Here are those papers you wanted, boss," the Talon Prisoner they captured from Oasis said to Winston as he handed him a pile of papers from a clipboard.

"Oh, uh, thank you," Winston said, brought out of his musings, and grabbing the papers.

"No problem."

The Prisoner turned away with a smile and was about to walk away to the exit, but he incidentally made eye-contact with the Courier, instantly seeing the large man glare daggers at him. His smile instantly disappeared when he recognized who it was, and nearly froze in shock. Faltering in his steps and standing there one second too long. Then, trying to save face, the Prisoner continued walking and kept his eyes on his feet. Staying like that the entire way until he walked out and was out of site.

"What the hell is he doing here?" the Courier wasted no time questioning.

"Hmm? Oh, him… Well, you see," Winston pushed up his glasses. "You know we don't have a lot of resources to spare given our current state, and it didn't make sense to keep him cooped up inside a cell doing… Nothing. So, we've-"

"Struck a deal with him."

"In the same vein, yes. Do some work for us in exchange for a place to stay. Granted, we're not letting him go outside of Gibraltar to do anything. We want to keep him close, of course."

"Why is he still here, though? Why not just throw him into the street? Make him someone else's problem?"

"Then we would not only endanger him but his family or anyone he is close to."

"You didn't seem to care for all those other Talon pricks we've offed."

"No, but he's a prisoner who surrendered to us. He became our responsibility by that point. And Talon has a habit of making sure that whoever works for them stays loyal to them. Through any means possible, even if it involves people not directly associated with Talon getting hurt. They might also consider him expendable by that point and won't bother with any alternatives besides killing him. We've seen it before.  _You've_ seen it before."

Nathan looked at Winston, then looking back to the doorway to see if he was still gone.

"He doesn't know anything about my Transportalponder?"

"That was one of the things we interrogated him about, among others. Didn't know much about that, unfortunately."

"And you believed the prisoner?" the Courier frowned.

"His name is Jose, and all the lie detector tests we conducted were negative, and some of the information he divulged to us has been used to our benefit in some way. It's been like this for a while, now. You're only just finding out?"

Nathan looked over his shoulder back at him, his face softening as he learned this had been occurring for some time, and he was unaware of it. Something that should've been easy for him to notice given the time he has been here. Granted, he never poked his head out much other than for what was needed to be done. Whether it was to eat, sleep, or drink. Maybe do an errand or two, maybe knock on Hana's door to keep the noise down. Never lingered around much, either. Always keeping to himself. How has he not noticed?

"So, we're not any closer to finding my Transportalponder," Nathan Brin recited.

"I'm afraid not," Winston lamented, not enthused about the news either. "And to make matters worse, it's a high priority among a list of high priorities. Trying to contribute time to each of them is maddening."

Holding the stack of papers given to him, Winston walks over and sets it down on a table. However, the ape grimaces and clenches his teeth as he brings a hand over to his chest. Clutching at the armor that covered him. Nathan noticed as his back was to him, the Gorilla then quickly recovering and taking in a quick breath.

"Winston, are you all right?" the base's AI asked, genuine concern in her voice.

"I'm fine, Athena," the mutant Gorilla grumbled, then turning around to Nathan. "So, as I said, we haven't made much progress towards finding your ride back home. I figured you would ask eventually. I'm sorry."

"Hmm," Nathan said, casting his gaze down to the table. His temper barely better than it was a few minutes earlier. "What are some of those other 'high priorities' then?" he asked.

"Oh, well, there are missions that need to be coordinated and executed, of course," the pseudo-commander began listing off. "But we also must worry about our supplies, upkeep and maintenance, making sure our digital infrastructure stays intact, and a whole assortment of chores on base alone. Why?"

"Well, if they're getting in the way of me getting back home…" Nathan Brin responded, almost catching himself about what he was going to say. Already realizing the implications given his rant just a couple minutes earlier. He wasn't going to stop, even if he yelled it. "Maybe."

"'Maybe'? I thought you wanted to be done with missions?"

"Not getting shot at, sure, but… Sitting around and not doing anything isn't preferable, either."

"I see. Well… Do whatever you wish," was all the ape could say at that moment.

Nathan then just stared at him, his face as disinterested as the first time he proposed the idea of him working for them in any capacity. Albeit, with much less fury in those eyes.

"Whatever," the old Waster responded, turning around to leave through the cavern door.

Winston watched him, frowning and thinking to himself for a second. Something on his mind that he felt should be said, something Nathan Brin should know at least.

"You know, some of the people we've recruited back have asked about you," Winston said, making Nathan Brin stop right as he was about to leave. "For some of them, it was one of the first questions they asked. They've all seen you on the holovids, wanting to know who you are, what you're doing here, where you came from. Asking if you've always been a part of Overwatch long before. Some of them sound quite impressed with what you've done out there. And others… Well…"

He hesitated with what he was going to say next, knowing the Courier well enough to know he is not the type of person to care about this. Even the type of person to outright dismiss it. It still seemed like something worth saying.

"…Others have asked if they could meet you. Of course, that's up to you. I thought I should let you know."

Nathan stood there, his back to the lab and his head slightly turned as if he was about to respond. He never did as he only stepped forward and left.

Things seemed quiet in the lab after he left, Winston standing there and staring at the entrance where he was. After some more brooding, he sighed and clicked all the holograms on the table away.

"I'm worried for him, Winston," Athena said, sounding unsure about his state.

"I know. I'm just surprised it took this long for him to have an outburst like that. I was certain it would be a lot sooner. And even if it did… He kept going on all those missions. He rarely ever said no."

"He seems rather driven, doesn't he? Never likes wasting time."

"I suppose. Well, the next time our team encounters Doomfist in the field, I'll be there. At least this reminds me we need to conduct another test. We're behind schedule."

The Scientist went over to a workbench, reaching down to a compartment at the bottom and pulling out a device that was hooked up to a series of batteries feeding a blue glow at its center. Heavily modified with an assortment of cables and wires running from it to an array of instruments that were scattered across the floor. The teleportation matrix looking very different from when they had taken it from Groom Lake.

"How much progress have you made unscrambling the telemetry from our 'first contact' with Brin?" the Scientist asked.

"0.000000000001321%, so far," his assistant stated.

"Getting closer, I suppose."

* * *

The streets of the oceanside city were peaceful and still somewhat busy given all the tourism to the area. Even then, the nightlife died down as the night progressed and the sky only got darker. Many people walking back to their homes or hotels.

Overwatch's Talon Prisoner, Jose, was one of the former as he walked along the streets carrying two large brown bags. A hefty payload that he spent much of the night trying to gather, given a list with a specific set of instructions he had to execute. Bringing back something of utmost importance that couldn't be overstated and was direly needed back at the base as soon as possible: Groceries.

After visiting the local markets and stores, the large brown bags he had were filled to the brim with vegetables, fruits, and a good amount of TV dinners. While supermarkets weren't the New Overwatch's main source of food, it was nice to get something local occasionally. It also helped to keep Jose in check, too, if the wristband that glowed blue on his arm wasn't enough. However, it wasn't particularly needed given he was obedient enough to even be sent outside the base without an escort. He was just happy he wasn't lying in some ditch with a gunshot wound in his head. Most likely what would've happened if he had gone back to Talon. New Overwatch didn't greet him with open arms, but they were gracious enough to let him stay for the time being and make himself useful until they decided to do something else with him. That was the best alternative, in his mind.

He went out at night to give himself as much cover as possible, taking the less traveled streets and alleyways to be the most inconspicuous he could be. And things had gone off without a hitch for the past couple of weeks he's been doing this, getting there and back to the Watchpoint easily.

Unfortunately, as he walked by an alley he's passed dozens of time before, he spotted the orange tip of a burning cigarette before a large fist slammed into his stomach and made him drop the groceries.

While the bananas and frozen dinners tumbled across the concrete, the attacker grabbed the Talon Prisoner by the neck and shoulders and threw him against the wall. The large man didn't give him any time to recover as he ran up and drove his knee into his stomach, making the Prisoner lurch forward before being knocked to the ground by a jab across his face. The assaulter wasted no time kicking his victim while he was down, crashing down his fists in-between. No regard for how loud the noise was. Not relenting even as his knuckles started to feel numb, or when there was a creeping pain on his right wrist. Only focused on beating the absolute shit out of the Prisoner.

Eventually, after bearing down on him for a good minute, the attacker stomped on him one final time and stopped. Standing back, having barely broken a sweat. Looking at the bloodied, curled-up man on the ground at his feet. Seeing tears stream down his cheeks as he heard him lightly sob.

"You're crying?" the Courier asked aloud. "Fuckin' pathetic."

He reached to his backside and pulled out his sidearm, racking the slide and making it echo across the alleyway. The prisoner sobbed, even more, covered in bruises. With little hesitation, he brought the muzzle to hover over his victim's head and placed his finger on the trigger. Barely feeling his knuckles numb as his fingers tightened around his grip and he felt his anger become hot in his chest. Leveling the sights right between the man's head, watching as he continued crying right as he was about to die. A goon that was only recently working for the very organization that's been out for the Courier's blood from the beginning. Out for everyone's blood from the beginning. This sniveling little shit still a part of the enemy as far as he was concerned.

Will never see his home again because of him.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Nathan Brin jumped and looked to the outside of the alleyway to see Manuel staring at them, frozen still as he held a case of beers in one hand and an open bottle in the other. In that instance, all the rage the Waster felt dropped and he looked down to see Jose covered in bruises and his own blood. About to end his life. It was only now that he considered maybe this one wasn't worth the bullet, the noise, the explanation, and the punishment that would result from what he was about to do. About to alert the entire Rock to the decision he was about to make with a gunshot. Or maybe it was worth it.

Breathing heavily, he clutched his head and growled in frustration, before hurriedly holstering his firearm. But he wasn't done with Jose as he forcefully picked him up, making him groan more in pain.

"Listen to me you little shit!" he sneered, bearing his teeth mere inches from his face, bruised like a rotten tomato. Holding him a few inches off the ground. "You don't say anything about this to anyone, do you understand? Don't tell this to your  _boss_ , don't tell this to Amari, don't tell this to anyone! Understood?"

His victim could only gurgle in response.

"Remember; I'll be on you like a fly on shit!"

He threw him back down to the ground and watched him flop against the alleyway, still writhing in tremendous pain. Nathan looked to the street to see Manuel wasn't there anymore and ran out of the alleyway to find him. Then spotting him to his right, walking away with his beers. The Wastelander wasting no time running to him and catching up to him quickly.

"Hey, man, I-"

"What the fuck was that, dude?!" Manuel exclaimed, turning around quickly to regard the tall man. "What the fuck were you doing?!"

"I was teaching that little shit a lesson. Making sure he knew his goddamn place."

"By nearly beating the life out of him?! By holding a gun over his head, executioner-style?! What the hell!"

"He put us through a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, and now he's getting us peanut butter and bananas! This isn't like you, man."

The New Californian was taken aback by that statement. By how presumptuous it was.

"You don't know me."

"Yes, I do; Your name's 'Nathan' and you're from California – like me! And this isn't you! This isn't what we should be doing. This is what we should be better than."

Manuel, once a chill dude Nathan would occasionally see around Gibraltar or on the odd mission, was glaring at the large Wastelander straight in the eye. Only a foot between them. Not backing down in the slightest.

"You could've jeopardized this entire operation. You could've made things worse for a lot of people. Are you really willing to make that  _choice_ for everyone here?" Manuel questioned. "And what about the people you care about back home? In California? Aren't they still counting on you?!"

Brin looked at him, that mentions of California almost making his head feel light. Memories upon memories of home flooding back in seconds. All the while he was under the scrutinizing gaze of a fellow Californian.

"I don't know," the New Californian admitted, looking towards the Mediterranean Sea, towards the West. Watching moonlight bounce off it. "Just please don't…"

"I…I know what you're going to say," Manuel interrupted, taking a swig from his bottle. "You've been having a rough few days. Things have only been getting more stressful for you. It is for everyone. And I really shouldn't say this, but I'll keep quiet."

That only surprised Nathan more, his head beginning to feel lighter.

"You fucked up this time, but we still need you.  _They_  still need you. And you were very close to throwing it away. I don't know about you, but I know what  _that_  feels like."

" _Do you?_ " the Courier asked, his hardened wasteland eyes earnestly looking him at the Californian in his face.

"Yes, but that's a story for another day. See you around, dude. Maybe…"

Manuel left, leaving Nathan to stand in the dark street alone. The Waster watching him go until he was out of sight for his old eyes, the cold ocean air making him shiver for once. Still shaken, Nathan took another drag from his cigarette and began to walk in the opposite direction of Manuel. Passing by the alleyway and seeing the Talon Prisoner still writhing on the ground.

As he walked away, he left a trail of smoke along the street, puffing away as he pleased. The vapor lingering even as he was already halfway down the street and turned a corner, out of sight. However, somewhere along the street and where the lights were not too well-lit, the smoke wafted around something that wasn't seen. The air shimmering a little as light passed through it, but barely noticeable at a time like this.

"Hmm…" this cloaked figure hummed, smiling as she stealthily made her way across the street and followed her "boyfriend".


	49. Mojave Expeditionary Unit

Decommissioned Watchpoint: Groom Lake, Nevada, Mojave Desert

2076

In one of the many facilities housed within the old Overwatch base surrounded by desert, there was a chamber constructed of concrete and steel. The lights within it laid dormant, leaving the large metal spire that hung from the ceiling in darkness. The ceiling very high to accommodate for its length, with a myriad of wires and parts of a very advanced but undiscernible nature reaching down to the floor. An impressive feat of engineering.

Although, despite being housed in an old facility that once belonged to Overwatch – once renowned for being the forerunners in technological advancement, both proven and theoretical – this new stalactite structure was a more recent addition. One that was constructed when Talon had come into the possession of an interesting piece of technology.

There was a large window a dozen meters up the wall, serving as both a viewing-pane and protective barrier to a room that housed the chamber's observation and operating room. A collection of advanced computers and research equipment kept inside, giving an overhead view of the entire chamber and the strange spire. However, absent of any scientists or researchers, the room was occupied by a lone security guard who sat at a desk and more time on his phone rather than keeping an eye on things. How his schedule has been ever since he got assigned to this post. Boring, but better than being outside in the baking Mojave heat.

The exit/entrance for this room opened and the guard's coworker walked in. The only other guard posted to this observation room. She was carrying a pink box and two coffee cups.

"Morning, Jerry," she greeted, putting the box and coffee on the table where he was, taking one cup for herself.

"Morning, Sam," he responded, reaching to the pink box, and flipping it open to reveal a dozen doughnuts of varying flavors, settling for the pink one with sprinkles. "You're late."

"Yeah, and?" she asked, leaning against the table, and taking a sip from her cup. "It's not like I'm going to be summarily executed for being late to  _this_. I'd rather get my coffee, first."

"With the way things have been shifting recently, especially with Ogundimu back, you might. No one gave you trouble walking here late, did they?"

"One of the new Security Heavies looked at me funny when I walked past him through a door," she recounted. "Those guys scare me."

"Then they're doing their jobs."

His co-worker scoffed and drank from her coffee, standing up from the table and walking around. There wasn't much space in the compact room that they've already explored multiple times over, but she went to the window to look down at the chamber. Not expecting much from that either, as she only saw a dark pit with a bunch of technology too advanced for her pay grade to know. For a lot of their pay grades to know.

"Anything interesting happen before I got here?" she asked, taking another sip from her coffee.

"Nope," her coworker answered, helping himself to another morning pastry.

She rolled her eyes, sustaining herself with another sip. Staring at the large technological stalactite.

"Seems like a waste," she states, shaking her head. "How many times have they used this chamber? Once?"

"As far as I know."

"And it's been sitting here ever since, taking up space? We should be putting our money into getting out there, instead of these crazy-ass science-fiction ventures. I mean, what does this thing even do?"

"I don't know but it fucking sucks up  _a lot_ of power. Don't you remember what happened when they did activate this thing? Half the damn Watchpoint went dark. Hell, I heard some of the nearby towns had problems and we had to make sure the local politicians didn't say anything about it."

"Yeah, I know. I am just wondering why the Council is still wasting their time with this."

"If you don't like it, you can take it up with them. I'm sure they'd love to hear your opinion."

Sam rolled her eyes more, taking a hearty gulp from her coffee and feeling more awake. Granted, despite her grievances, a post as boring and uneventful as this that she could even have discussions of that nature was nice. Only having to worry about her colleague eating all the doughnuts before she could get one.

The guard observed more of the chamber, craning her neck to look at the very bottom of it to see where the tip of the spire was pointing too. An empty, open space large enough for people to walk around. Currently occupied by nothing. Examining more of the chamber and things she looked at dozens of times before. Having gone through half of her coffee. About to get herself a donut before she saw something flash in the corner of her eye, bringing her gaze to the roof of the chamber. Seeing one little bright blue light glowing along the spire's exterior. Easily noticeable in the dark.

"Uh… Jerry, you should take a look at this."

Jerry stopped in the middle of his fourth doughnut and glanced to see his colleague looking at something through the glass. He got up and went over to her side and peered through the window for himself. Instantly spotting the blue light at the top of the spire that's been dormant for months.

"What the…"

Suddenly, a second light blinked on, the one after the first. Next, the third blinked on not long after that. Then, the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth. All the lights turning on after the other. Going all the way to the tip of the spire pointing to the ground. All the while, mechanisms activated and sparked as the chamber was brought to life seemingly of its own accord. The once dark room now being illuminated in a brilliant blue shade of energy. Energy that looked too strong for their window to provide adequate protection from.

Not wasting another second, Sam ran to the other side of the room and flipped a plastic panel up before slamming the emergency button on the wall. Flashing red lights and alarms going off in the base. While she did that, Jerry scrambled to the microphone that was on the desk and activated it.

"Attention all personnel! The testing chamber is active! I repeat! The testing chamber has activated for unknown reasons!"

He stood up and saw Sam standing at the window, again, her hands pressed up against the glass as she watched. He ran over to her and grabbed her by the shoulder, trying to lead her away and to a safer place.

"Come on, we need to get out of here-!"

Finally, the spire's field of energy collapsed on itself and thundered within the chamber. With enough force to knock them to their feet. The glass even shattering from the shockwave of the blast. The two held on to each other, Jerry shielding Sam from the glass and bracing for anything else that may happen.

Nothing else happened, and the two slowly opened their eyes to see they were still intact. Slowly but carefully, they got to their feet and looked around the room, seeing paper, equipment, and glass scattered all over the floor. The alarms and the lights that weren't broken by the blast still blared, but the spire's energy field dissipated, and the lights were flickering off. However, they could still hear something coming from the chamber. They could hear something moving about.

The two guards walked over to the window and, without glass to obstruct them, poked their heads through to get a clearer view of the chamber. Their gaze veered up to watch the last blue light of the spire flicker off with the sounds of its mechanism and power winding down. However, their eyes were then drawn to the bottom of the floor as they saw something through the smoke. The cloud clearing to reveal there was now a group of people at the previously empty pad. Two large beings encased in Power Armor neither of them has ever seen, one in a faded shade of green with an arsenal attached to its body and the other bulky as a boulder with a shiny silver finish. The Power Armor units accompanied by a man with a rifle over his back and a red beret on his head.

Confused, Sam spotted more movement next to them and saw two furry members of this group, but one of them had more metal than fur.

"Is that… a robot-dog?!" she exclaimed, but Jerry was too busy scrambling to the microphone to answer.

"Attention all security personnel! Intruders in the testing chamber! I repeat," he yelled into the microphone, his voice ringing all over the Watchpoint. "Intruders in the testing chamber!"

* * *

_Earlier…_

Big Mountain Research and Development Center, California Wasteland

2285

There wasn't much to do inside the Sink to keep himself entertained. There was plenty outside of the safety of the dome for him to do – chase nightstalkers, wrangle lobotomites, and retrieve the occasional piece of advance Pre-War tech. Playing fetch was always fun, especially if it glowed and smelled funny, but the 200-year-old cyberdog felt a little lazy today and decided to spend his time snoozing on the comfortable bed in the Sink bedroom. Establishing his claim to it as he slept on it more than anyone else. Such a nice departure from the stained and worn mattresses he was used sharing with The King or Nathan. His largely-metal body feeling like it was laying on a cloud, his brain peacefully floating in the gel.

Rex wasn't even that disturbed when the others were running around the Sink for some reason, hearing their feet tap against the metal floor but not really caring as he was simply too tired. The old dog not wanting to get out of bed to see what all the commotion was about. When Cooper walked up to the bed and propped his front legs up to see the older dog all curled up, he barked to get his attention. Barking and ruffing a few more times, poking him with his snout. Rex only curled up more into his robot body, not having any of it. Grumbling all the while, much to the chagrin of Cooper.

As Cooper sat there and waited for the other dog companion to acknowledge him, the humans were running around them. Grabbing and carrying around equipment. Much of it pilfered from the remains of Big MT. A lot of it big and advanced, taking whatever they could carry and possibly need. The three rushing through the halls as they were preparing for something they've waited for ages. Taking the best that's offered to them for the journey.

However, one of them – dressed in a tight-fitting jumpsuit that ran up to her neck – saw the canines having a standoff and smiled as she put down her Mark II Power Armor helmet on the edge of the bed. She pets Cooper as she crouches beside him and in front of Rex, Cooper licking her a few times on the cheek. Thanking the all-natural dog before diverting her attention to the cybernetic one, leaning onto the foot of the bed.

"Oh, Reeeeeeexxx…" Veronica softly whispered to the sleeping K9, not getting much of a reaction from him. Not the first time he had to be coaxed out of bed, remembering many times throughout their travels the only thing stopping the party from getting a move on was this lazy dog. "Rex, it's time to wake up. Come on, boy!"

Rex tiredly grumbled.

"Come on, you're always the one setting the pace every time we go somewhere!" she lambasted, remembering he would run past even Nathan when he caught the whiff of something. This dog sometimes a reason their legs would hurt. Veronica was a bit irked at his lack of compliance, probably needing some mole rat stew to wave in front of his face to wake him. However, the more she thought about all the travels she's spent with Nathan, she remembers all the times Rex was always by his side whenever they got into trouble. Whenever any of them got into trouble. Knowing there was something he cared more about than cooked rat chops.

"Okay, sleep in if you want," Veronica rose her hands in faux-defeat, getting up and taking her Power Armor helmet with her. About to go through the doorway with Cooper. "The others and I will just go save Nathan by ourselves."

" _Bark!_ "

That bark echoed loudly against the metal walls, and Veronica turned around to the quick pitter-patter of paws to find Rex standing at her feet. Sitting his metal rump on the floor and looking up at her, his tail wagging excitedly. She laughed and grinned ear-to-ear as she bent down and hugged him, making sure to scratch behind his ears.

"You're such a good boy, Rex," the Scribe affirmed, giving him a little kiss on his brain dome.

" _Woof!_ "

With that done, she stood up and made her way to the Think Tank to meet up with Parmley and Craig. Carrying a duffle bag over her shoulder, a helmet in her hand, and two dogs in tow.

The ex-Scribe had been a guest in this place for weeks, waiting and planning for when the day would arrive. Trying to learn all the secrets she could from this place in the meantime, whether it was through her own empirical observations or asking around the wonderful personalities that bickered incessantly since their arrival. Trying to get an idea of how Nathan felt when he first came to this place, and how he felt when he left. Of course, he already left his mark place long before she even had the chance, but that was fine. Helping him was what she cared about.

On the other side of the room, in the doorway leading to the Think Tank, Parmley and Boone were waiting. Both men geared up as they kept the door open. Just as ready to get on the "road" as Veronica.

"You ready?" Boone asked, his red beret firmly seated upon his head.

"No, just wanted to wear this tight suit chafing against my crotch because I'm feeling extra kinky, today," Veronica quipped, the real answer still obvious.

"I wish Sirs and Hounds a most genial adieu, and a safe and fruitful journey in finding our mutual acquaintance," the Sink Central Intelligence Unit gave a farewell, sounding very earnest and genuine with his accent.

"Yeah, what he said! See ya, guys! Muggy exclaimed as he rolled up and waved goodbye to the group. "Oh, and don't be afraid to bring back some coffee mugs, because I won't know what to do otherwise! God, I hate myself. Why did I say that?!"

All the personality matrices in the Sink began to wish the search party a farewell, wishing them all their best and hoping they bring Nathan back. The family of machines making Veronica look back and smile, going to remember the hospitality they've given to them when they find Nathan. She couldn't wait to bring him back to experience the hospitality, again.

Veronica and the others said their goodbyes, before disappearing through the door to the Think Tank.

* * *

"Sooo… Is it ready?" Dr. 0 asked, his eye monitors scrutinizing a hexagonal platform set in the middle of their laboratory.

This platform, like the rest of Big Mountain, had lights of a brilliant shade of blue around its outline, but the brightest and biggest bulb of light was in its center. Around the hexagon, large cables and wires connected to outlets along its form and ran across the floor to unseen pathways. Many of these cables glowing with energy as well, pulsating and flowing with it. A gentle hum resonating from the platform. Suspended above it by a metal post that stemmed from its base and branched over the center was an electric chip, not too dissimilar from the sparking chip on the Transportalponder. Only cruder and not nearly as compact.

The best science had to offer at this point.

"It should be if you had locked in those coordinates you found," Dr. Klein responded, but at a volume that was bearable and to the point where one couldn't easily spot his antagonizing tone through it. "You… Did lock those coordinates in, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure I did. All the numbers and letters were pretty hard to unscramble but… Yeah. Everything should be good. Unless 8 was slacking off, again."

" _[#-!-#]!_ "

"It's a legitimate concern!"

However, before 8 and 0 could even "argue", Dr. Mobius was quick to shut them up as Veronica and the others appeared from the hallway. Carrying all their essentials and gear with them, dressed for the outdoors, and ready to set out into this new unknown the Think Tank found. Where their friend was. At least, that's what they want to believe.

"Hmm, I see you are all ready to undertake this trek we will be sending all of you on," Dr. Mobius noted, his old monitors casting a gaze upon them. "Good. I expect no less of Nathan's compadres."

"As do I," Dr. Klein agreed, floating beside his old colleague. "To save ourselves the valuable time and oxygen that would be exhausted otherwise, I will be brief: You are going to be translocated to the chronal position of Nathan's Transportalponder! It took many man and machine hours to pinpoint the location of this piece of Big Mountain technology graciously gifted to Nathan Brin by us, but we have finally found it. Unfortunately, there appears to be a catch… We're not entirely sure where it has pointed us to. Several scientific miracles had to be conducted alone to find this piece of sparky-plastic, but not giving us a definitive answer of  _where_? The disgusting bipedal robots you killed have inadvertently helped us with the refuse they've splattered all over the satellite array, pointing us in the right direction. It seems to be  _t_ _heir home_ if you can call it that. And we have secured the means to send you there. I do not know what this other place is like if it is even attainable in our comprehension, but it is  _there_. And if it's there, your friend cannot be that far. So, I only ask you this: Do you wish to go?"

"Of course," Veronica Santangelo answered immediately with no hesitation, her expression as static as their screens. "Anything for Nathan."

"Same," Craig Boone agreed. "Only seems right to return the favor to him, for once."

The two friends looked at each other, exchanging warm glances. Traveled many miles together with their mutual friend. Knowing that they were willing to travel a few more for him. Wherever he may be. Rex looking up and sitting close to Veronica, brushing up against her leg.

Meanwhile, Parmley looked around awkwardly as he thought about what he was going to say.

"Well, I've been gone longer than my leave permits, I think," he honestly admitted, avoiding some glares from Craig and Veronica. "So, sure. I'd rather not get court-martialed if I go back."

"Splendid, then let us go forth!" Mobius declared, his brain case lighting up with gusto.

Veronica and Parmley went to their respective sets of Power Armor, climbing into the frames and having them close. The Power Armor sealing and becoming air-tight as they connected and hooked up with their jumpsuits, now able to utilize all the advanced systems the suits of armor had to offer. They were going to need it.

Parmley's T-51b had all its weapon systems lock into place, each mechanism performing a diagnostics test. The large claw marks on the armored chest filled in with Saturnine, but still visible. Although, it added to the aesthetic of the war machine.

Veronica's X-01 APA Mk. II was still as shiny as Pre-War ceramic, recently needing to be cleaned after exterminating some of the Mojave's newest pest as a test-run. It didn't bear anything new other than large packs that were slung over the back of armor's bulky frame, containing quite literally hundreds of pounds of supplies and gear, but it felt like nothing in the large suit of Power Armor. Veronica opting to stick with the same Winchester P94 Plasma Caster and Saturnite Fist, the latter still glowing bright and hot to the touch.

With everything ready on their end, Veronica turned around to spot Boone and the dog already at the platform. She watched as the sniper was tying something around Cooper's neck. Getting to see the Wasteland Mutt now rocking a blue bandana.

"Thought it would look good," Boone shrugged.

"It does," Veronica smiled, stepping over to the platform and standing on it.

Then, with everyone on, multiple cables flickered on with the noise of power running through them. Many lights on the hexagon becoming brighter and the electronic chip hanging above them crackling more. All of them glancing at it, before looking at each other. Instantly knowing they had each other's backs and tails.

"Godspeed, lady, gentlemen, and canines!" Dr. Borous exclaimed as the Think Tanks surrounded the group to give their goodbyes.

Finally, in an instant, the light was filled with a bright blue light and a bolt of lightning emitted from the chip. Everyone on the hexagon was enveloped in that glow, and as quickly as it flooded the room, it flashed off and showed nothing standing at the hexagon. Tiny specks of blue dust floating to the ground before sizzling away like vapor. They were gone.

As eccentric and incomprehensible as the Think Tanks could be, the old brains in jars could feel a wave of relief washing over them when they saw there wasn't a pile of guts and bones on the floor. They floated there, the usually rambunctious walls of their lab eerily quiet as they sent mutual friends of a friend to somewhere so infinitesimally far away, from a metaphysical standpoint. Hoping that they will be able to achieve their goal and bring the Courier back home.

"Ugh, I forgot to thank Veronica for fixing my speakers. Make sure to remind me when they get back," Dr. Klein said, about to go off and do science before he stopped and noticed what he said. "Back…" he repeated. "Back… Get back…"

His monitors sunk.

"Did we give them any method of conveyance for getting back once they're done?" Dr. Klein enquired cautiously and uncharacteristically meekly, his speakers quieter than a normal speaking voice.

He was met with blank stares from all the other eye-monitors, no answer from his colleagues as they floated in silence.

After realizing that the Think Tank of Big Mountain Research and Development Facility had neglected – no,  _forgot_ – to devise any means for the search party to come back, his speakers went to their maximum volume but of his own volition. Realizing that in their brilliance, they'd have forgotten one crucial aspect of the plan.

"OH SHIT!"

* * *

_Present…_

Having their molecular structure be torn apart in a thousand, if not a million, different ways on the atomic level was a wild ride. Wilder than attempting to ride the derelict roller coaster at the Bison Steve Hotel, if it ever did work. As if their very existence as an organism was literally ripped to shreds. Their hair, their skin, their organs, their clothes, their armor; All of it. Painful all over the body… Yet feeling nothing when it happened. As if they had simply fallen to sleep and woke up in a completely different place. Their consciousness groggy yet aware of the entire thing.

Having their molecular structure then being put back together only a moment later made Veronica feel sick to her stomach.

Her along with everyone else flopped to the metal floor after the bright light that enveloped them washed away. Left in the darkness as they struggled to get back on their feet.

'If this is what Nathan goes through daily, then I feel extra sorry for him…' Veronica thought, catching her breath.

Thankfully, even with the bulk of her armor, the ex-Scribe was able to get on her large armored feet, using one fist to balance herself and not fall flat on her face. Although regretting that she decided to eat beforehand, she was able to stand up and open her eyes underneath her helmet. Seeing they were surrounded by metal walls. Turning all around, she saw the others were still with her and getting their bearings. Boone assisting Parmley in his Power Armor while Cooper nudged old Rex with his snout. Her relief upon seeing her friends quickly shifted to confusion as her head began to clear up and she could hear a loud noise buzzing through her helmet, accompanied by flashing red lights that flooded the dark room. It was an alarm.

"Attention all security personnel! Intruders in the testing chamber! I repeat," she heard a voice yell across the intercoms, loud enough for all of them to hear at the bottom of the chamber they were trapped in. The first words she heard in this new place being spoken in English. "Intruders in the testing chamber!"

"Great…" Veronica hurriedly ran over to her friends, grabbing her Plasma Caster and powering it on. Green tubes lighting up like vats of goo. "Come on, guys! Get up! We need to go!"

The others got to their feet and began to look around, any "transportal" fatigue gone as the adrenaline began to pump. Immediately finding themselves in hostile territory. Trying to find a way out of this cavernous chamber.

Unfortunately, they were interrupted when a window high above them erupted with gunfire, several masked assailants with red-eyes firing upon them. Boone and the dogs took cover behind Parmley and Veronica, their armor shrugging off the rifle fire. They retaliated, sending green bolts of plasma and small arms fire towards their attackers. The group's combined firepower surprising them. Retreating into cover.

"We gotta find an exit, now!" Boone exclaimed as he fired up towards the window, managing to get one of them as red mist exploded from their helmet.

Veronica, in between reloads of the Plasma Caster, looked around the floor of the chamber to find an actual exit. It didn't take long for her to spot the large, metal blast door that was next to them. Large enough to be the wall for a house. It was the only exit and entrance to this chamber, and they had to break through it. She had to find a way, fast, as she heard yelling from the window and watched a couple of grenades being thrown out and land directly at their feet. Boone grabbed the dogs and Parmley kicked the grenades away to the other side of the room. They exploded, Parmley and Veronica providing the barrier from the shockwave and shrapnel for the ones not in Power Armor. Still feeling the explosion shake their insides.

"Jesus Christ!" Parmley yelled out he heard all the metal that bounced against him and could've punctured his skin.

Gritting his teeth under his helmet, the Ranger lifted a hand up and grabbed the Red Glare rocket-system grafted onto his shoulder. Aiming through the red target-finder that sprouted from the side of the weapon, he sent a barrage of glaring red rockets to the window. The attackers didn't have time to react as the room was enveloped in a series of explosions, decimating anything and anyone caught in the blast. Blood and giblets raining from the window and onto them. Splattering their armor.

"Ughh!" Veronica involuntarily groaned in disgust, her shiny armor now covered in bodily fluids.

However, as she looked up to survey the damage, her eyes spotted something hanging above them. At the tip of the large spire that hung over them, the ex-Scribe's eyes saw a little chip encased in glass suspended by the large machine it was embedded into. It still fizzled with a little bit of power, it's glow negligible to even be a nightlight. Bearing a striking resemblance to the sparking chip that hovered over the platform that transported them to Nathan's Transportalponder.

She quickly leveled her Plasma Caster to the air and fired, sending one green bolt into the spire, and melting through the metal that held the chip. It fell from the rest of the machine and Veronica quickly stomped over and grabbed it, stuffing it into one of the pouches on her armored hip. Running back to the door, she turned a knob on the side of her P94, making the lights grow brighter and the weapon vibrate as a low hum resonated from it. She then started firing towards the blast door, hotter and brighter bolts of superheated green plasma punching through the metal. Forming an oval outline as large as her with every shot from it, feeling it kick in her gauntlet hands. Going through two Microfusion Cells, she finished and shouted to Rex. The Cyberdog's ears perked and within a second, he was at Veronica's side. She pointed to the green outline on the door.

"Speak!"

With a rapturous bark, a powerful blast wave shot straight from his snout and struck the door. Making it fly inward and reveal a room on the other side of the wall with a lifting platform.

"I found an elevator, let's go!" she yelled, beckoning them over with an armored hand.

They ran over to her and the door, wading through the molten plasma. After everyone got through the doorway first, she ran in after them and towards the lift. Setting foot on it, the ex-Scribe then had trouble trying to find the controls as there was no panel or set of buttons for her to press. Worry starting to set in, again, she stepped over to the rail and got startled as a square patch of light appeared right in front of her. It was a hologram, but not a hologram she's ever seen before. It was a clean, crisp, and clear image of two arrows facing in opposite directions with a prompt written above them.

"Up or Down?"

She was confused as she tried to find the mechanism this strange hologram was asking for. Even having to take off her helmet for a moment to get a clearer look. Unsure, she slowly reached one metal finger out and "tapped" the top arrow. To her surprise, the arrow reacted and flashed a different color when it was touched, and the lift began to move once she issued the command. The hologram fading away. Her old Brotherhood mind began to run wild until she reigned it in since there were more important matters to attend to.

"Where the hell is Nathan?" she questioned aloud, turning to the other members of their search party. "He can't be here, can he? Somewhere in this… Facility?"

"I fucking hope not," Parmley grunted, checking his weapon systems. "Not with all these bastards shooting at us."

"They might know something," Boone posed. "They could be holding him prisoner if this is where his device was."

Hearing that made Veronica's heart sink into her stomach, her blood running cold at the prospect that their friend was being held prisoner. For God knows how long. The thought of failing her friend once again, not being there when he needed them most, and being too late to help him was almost unbearable.

Her grievances were put on hold as the lift stopped and took them to the highest point it could. Stopping at a large door that then receded into the ground. Revealing the room where the window was and the carnage they created was all over the walls, ceiling, and floor. They ignored that as Veronica ran through and had the rest follow. Guts and bones squelching and crunching underneath her feet. Trying to keep her lunch in.

Running through a doorway, they first find a hallway that ran through the rest of the facility they were teleported to. Everything red from the flashing lights and the alarm still echoing loudly through the halls. Upon reaching this doorway, they were immediately met by an entire hallway of small arms fire as more of these silver-helmeted soldiers fired upon them. However, their attacks only inconvenienced the two in Power Armor with their rounds pinging off, barely making a scratch on Veronica's APA. Her Brotherhood training kicking into full gear.

Taking point, she walked into the hallway and began indiscriminately spraying her Plasma Caster down the hall, making the halls light up green every time she squeezed the trigger. Making sure she was at a pace the rest of her squad can follow and be close. Remembering to soak up and take as much fire as she can for her team. Keeping track of how the energy weapon was performing in her hands and making the needed adjustment in aim.

Meanwhile, Boone provided occasional sniper support from behind and took down some targets in front of them, too. Parmley covered their rear to make sure they had armor on both ends, keeping an eye as he gave fire support when needed – taking care of anyone trying to flank them.

"Who the hell are these guys?!" one of the silver-headed soldiers screamed, being pushed back along with the rest of his comrades. Watching as green blobs tore through their ranks and cover, sometimes leaving smoldering piles of goo that splattered across the walls. Some of them screaming in shock as they watched the person next to them  _melt_.

"Bring that heavy MG up here, now!"

Rex's ear perked upon hearing that, and he growled as he broke off from the group and ran into one of the doors on the side that lead into offices.

"Hey, Rex!" Boone tried to grab the K9, but he was off like a rocket before he could do anything.

The NCR Sniper then turned back to the front and continued giving support to Veronica as she led the charge. Taking down as many as his view and cover could permit. Simultaneously keeping up with her. However, through the chaos and his scope, he spotted two men carrying a very large gun emplacement before plopping it down and setting it up behind everyone else. Seeing them charge the weapon, Boone was about to yell to Veronica to take cover before the glass window next to the machine gunners shattered from a wave of energy and knocked one of them onto their feet. The one still standing didn't have time to react as Rex jumped through the shattered window and latched his cybernetic jaws around his throat. The sudden thundering noise and the screaming distracted soldiers closest to the machine gun nest. The others saw the opportunity and rushed them even harder, quickly overwhelming them from both sides. Even Cooper ran past Veronica and pounced on an unsuspecting victim.

After a few more bouts and plasma burns, the entire hallway was cleared, and the group wasted no time getting back on the search for an exit. Surrounded by windows and doors, Veronica couldn't help but notice all the alien and foreign technology she was just running past. Almost wanting to pick one up for herself.

Thanks to the help of a few signs that were conveniently in English, they went down a few turns and curves towards the elevators. Spotting some people trying to take them and get the hell out. When they saw the imposing frame of Enclave Armor approaching them, they both raised their hands.

"Hey!" Veronica yelled, stomping up to them with the Plasma Caster leveled, the others behind. "I've got a few questions if you don't mind me asking?"

"Please!" the man pleaded, shaking as he clutched his coworker. "D-don't kill us!"

"Sure, but first things first; Where is Nathan Brin?!"

"W-who?!" the man responded.

The others got by her side and pointed their weapons at them, as well. The dogs joining and growling.

"Nathan Brin! He must be here somewhere. Where are you holding him?" Veronica pressed on.

"I-I-I don't know who that is. I swear! We-we're not even holding any prisoners here."

"I'll give you a hint: he's tall, has dark hair, has a Pip-Boy on his left arm, and wears dark armor that you can't miss. Sometimes goes by the 'Courier'. Where is he?"

The two guards stopped shaking as their eyes widened in realization who the stranger in large armor was talking about. Hearing that it sounded very similar to a man that's been a thorn in their employer's for so long.

"Y-you mean… The 'Man in Black Armor'…?" the woman asked.

"You know him?" Veronica pressed.

"Y-yes! I-I mean no! Everyone in Talon knows who that is! Everyone in the damn world knows who that is! Doesn't mean we're keeping him here, though. We haven't caught him at all, he keeps killing our men. Everyone knows he's with Overwatch!"

"…Over-who…?"

The two Talon Guards exchanged glances with each other, thinking how odd of a question that was from someone who looked like she belonged in the damn organization. Her and the robot-dog.

"So, you don't know where he is? He's not being kept here?" Parmley asked, his large frame poking through, too.

"I swear, I don't know where he is, but he is certainly not here. Not by a long shot!" the man answered, watching the large figures with unease.

After some silence as the group exchanged glances with each other, Veronica finally eased her stance and gestured with the fins of her P94.

"Go," the ex-Scribe spared them.

They didn't need much convincing as they immediately turned tail and ran away, Jerry holding Sam as they made their way to the other exits. The search party watching them until they were out of sight.

"It's what Nathan would've done," Veronica remarked, looking over to Boone.

"Too bad he isn't here," Craig responded. "Who the hell's 'Overwatch'?"

With that out of the way, they all diverted their attention to the elevator doors, seeing they had already been summoned but were still taking their time getting to their floor. The Wastelanders watching as the strange display at the top of the doorway showed the progress of their ride. Eventually, it reached them and a holographic upward-arrow lit up. They were about to get on when the doors slid open, but Parmley was swept off his feet when a large set of armor rocketed into him and crashed through the walls.

"Parmley!"

The Ranger in Power Armor screamed as he was being driven through walls and offices. His visor pressed up against the large red head of someone in armor bulkier than his, able to carry the set of T-51b across the halls. However, the automated turret on his shoulder recognized the threat and began firing at point-blank range. The Tesla Coils all over his body sparking to life and shocking the enemy. This served to annoy the charger to the point it skidded to a stop and threw Parmley against a concrete wall. The force and sudden change in speed making his insides tremor. The weapon systems on his back damaged and sparking.

Not dead, yet, he looked up and spotted the other Power Armored being and raised his wrists, the Gating Laser and Flamethrower bursting to life. While they did a good job burning the white and gray ceramic plating of the behemoth's armor, it only served to annoy him further as he then swung two impressive miniguns forward, launching a flurry of red energy bolts. The old T-51b could withstand the blows, but the user was staggered by all the incoming fire at this close of a range and had to retreat to cover. As he turned tail and ran, the dual-minigun wielding goliath followed and stomped towards him.

Then, there was loud stomping to the side when a superheated Power Fist slammed directly into his red, helmeted head. The force enough to make him stumble and stop firing, he quickly turned to see the set of APA standing in front of him, her fists pumped. The Heavy swung the large barrels of his miniguns at her like clubs, but the ex-Scribe swiftly sidestepped them even in Power Armor. Seeing an opening, she sent a jab straight into the helmet, the superheated space-age material and her enhanced strength allowing to simultaneously melt and crack the red helmet. The Heavy was thoroughly staggered by the punch, then opting to use its miniguns but Veronica strongly gripped one of the barrels and crashed her fist down onto it, multiple times. Breaking the mechanism and rendering one minigun useless. Frustrated and becoming more enraged, the boosters on his pack thundered to life and charged directly into Veronica. However, she didn't budge as she braced her self and grabbed the enemy's collar, mechanisms in her metal feet not faltering under the weight or pressure and keeping traction on the floor. As nimbly as she could, she swiped a powerful leg under one of his feet and offset his balance. Once he had fallen on his back, she pounced and began repeatedly punching the helmet. Sparks sometimes flying with every other impact. The red helmet becoming more discolored and deformed with every strike. The suit of Advanced Power Armor effectively pinning him down. After two dozen or so punches, the helmet cracked, and blood sputtered out on her mask. The miniguns on his arms falling limp as blood began steaming off her heated fist.

Veronica was sweating under the armor, standing up from the big guy to catch her breath. Parmley cautiously exiting cover and looking at the dead man in armor he's never seen.

"Thanks," he patted her on the shoulder with his metal hand. Then looking at his damaged shoulder weapons. "Big sonofabitch dinged me up real bad."

Veronica was about to quip that she would fix it later when they find some tools, but something roared behind them. Turning around to see the big sonofabitch of had gotten back up, a crack in its helmet revealing a bloodshot and very enraged human eye.

Before Veronica could even take her stance, the walls flashed green and a small plasma-bolt flew into the helmet. The ball of plasma penetrating the armor with ease and making it implode. The Heavy now missing a chunk of its head as it slumps to the floor one last time. The others looking to see Boone with the Glock 86 Plasma Defender in his hands.

"You should really shoot them next time," the Sniper suggested. "That's what I would do."

"Eh, the Plasma Caster was slowing me down," Veronica shrugged in her Advanced Power Armor, then gesturing to Parmley. "Someone needed to save him."

"Well, I think we should get a move one, but the elevators are busted. I was able to find a set of stairs. Looks pretty long, though."

"We've trekked up mountains, Craig. It shouldn't be too different."

"What about getting shot at?"

"Umm… Yeah. That, too."

"Heh."

The search party quickly regaining their bearings and cleaning some excess blood off, Boone quickly led them to where he found the staircases.

A rather tight fit through the doorway, the five all got through and began climbing up the long flight of stairs. Veronica taking point and Parmley minding the rear. Climbing up several stories of stairs, they encountered no issues until they got to the top and stopped at the only exit. Through the door's window, they saw the floor they were about to enter was largely dark save for some flashing alarm lights. However, they could also see what seemed to be flashlights attached to the ends of weapons, seeing the cones of light slowly move about the dark space.

"Where the hell are they?" they could hear one of the soldiers. "Does anyone got eyes-on?"

"Negative. Surveillance is still down, so they could be anywhere."

"Half the damn systems on this base are down! What the hell happened down there?!"

Veronica kept peeking through the window and tried to find any exit they could take. Eventually, at the very far end of the room, she could spot a ray of light shine in from some unseen source. The only form of light shining at this level. It looked like sunlight. And the only thing that was in their way were dozens of armed, clearly hostile, men.

Veronica looked back at the others, quickly receiving nods from both the Ranger and Sharpshooter. Needing no more affirmations, she brought a finger up to her helmet and the eyes lit up, each one providing a cone of light for her and the others to see. The hostiles in the next room over instantly noticing the light before a large figure beat down the door and caused the entire room to shake.

"Contact! Open fire!"

With the lack of light, the large office space was illuminated in the muzzle flashes of rifles, the green goo of the P94, and the streaks of red beams from the Gatling Laser. The noises and flashes becoming a disorienting sight for anyone witnessing it, but the five friends pushed their way across the room as they were able to outgun their enemy even when outnumbered. The overwhelming force of the two sets of Power Armor supported by Boone's sniper fire in close quarters. Rex braking off from the rest of the group and prowling across the office floor until pouncing on his next victim. Eventually, the room of hostiles was clear, some turning into piles of ash or goo, and there was nothing else impeding them as they ran to the exit. Getting closer and closer, the light becoming brighter and clearer.

The exit was broken down as Veronica, Boone, Parmley, Rex, and Cooper finally reached the outside and was almost blinded by the sudden light. Their eyes quickly adjusted, letting them see a wide-open field of concrete and dirt. They were in what appeared to be a military base, not too dissimilar from the ruins in the Mojave. The surrounding geography and heat reminding them of that, as well. Their first steps into the outside revealing a rather uncanny appearance. While they didn't say it aloud, they questioned if they had even gone far.

However, their attention drifted to something coming over the horizon. Black boxy forms disrupting the mirage. Boone brought up his sniper and looked through the scope. At first, he wasn't sure if he was seeing right.

"Are those… Cars…?" the NCR Sniper asked aloud, confused and surprised.

His confusion quickly shifted to panic as he saw flashes from the top of the vehicles and heard machine gun rounds zip by their heads. The walls and ground popping at their feet. They took cover by some machines that were next to the exit when they got out, but that was when he noticed the thing they took cover by were also cars. Cars that he's never seen before. And they were floating.

"What the-?!"

More machine gun fire from the "cars" disrupted his train of thought, the powerful rounds punching holes in the brick wall of the building they just escaped from. The car he was behind not faring any better.

The automobiles with machine guns were closing the distance very quickly, absolutely raining down on them with a hail of bullets. Parmley and Veronica fired back, aiming as close as they could while avoiding enemy fire. Much more wary and careful this time around as they were going up against some heavy ordinance.

"Parmley, don't stay out in the open too long!" Veronica yelled, concerned for the one with the older armor.

"Got it," he responded, before noticing something moving at their flank. "Veronica, on your right!"

She looked to see two smaller vehicles quickly approaching them from the side, also with machine guns on top that fired at them. Although they were of a smaller caliber, they pinged all over their armor and disoriented them. Plugging in a fresh MF Cell, Veronica quickly fired at the moving targets. They were fast and moved quickly without wheels, but a green bolt was able to strike one of the cars and punched  _through_  the engine block with ease. That car then dropped to the ground with a skid, and the surviving occupants ran out screaming as they were covered in plasma burns. The car beginning to melt from the middle out. The other car then spinning around and going the other way, learning to not get too close to the imposing figure with a large gun. Yet, the larger and beefier vehicles kept coming, only about 300 yards out from where they were. Able to see more detail on them and that they were quite large. Dwarfing the smaller cars. Knowing they needed to be taken care of before they could go anywhere, Veronica stood her ground and kept firing. Adjusting her aim when needed, remembering what the Brotherhood and Nathan taught her.

"Go, I'll cover you!" she yelled to her team, marching forward under the gunfire. Feeling more of the rounds ping off her armor. Hoping they don't hit anything vital.

"What are you doing?!" Parmley called out.

Thinking she wouldn't have much until those things barreled into her or her friends, she fired as much as she could. The end of the barrel becoming green hot. However, thinking this was going to be a long and drawn out battle between her and the impending combat vehicles, she watched in surprise and astonishment as a plasma bolt slammed directly head-on into one of them and a brilliant explosion made it burst from the inside. The wheeled machine crumbling to the concrete. The other one started to steer out of some of the debris that spilled out from the large truck, not anticipating such a reaction from the energy weapon. Quickly, Veronica dumped the rest of her fusion cell onto the remaining vehicle with much ferocity as it was getting closer and closer. Even with its large frame and armored shell, the vehicle was helpless as the Winchester P94 began ripping watermelon sized holes with melting goop all over its body. While not exploding, the vehicle just lost control and began driving wobbly until it turned and tipped over on its side and slid across the concrete. The one responsible braced herself as the large mass of metal started heading towards her, but the large truck slowed down and stopped mere meters from she was. Opening her eyes to see half of its hull was melting thanks to her. Looking down at the Plasma Caster and not expecting it to be so easy.

"Well, it's good to see melting people still works," the ex-Scribe conceded.

"Veronica!" the distance cries of both Boone and Parmley called out to her.

"I'm fine, guys, hold your horses. I just-"

"Look out!" they screamed once again, pointing at something to their right. Their arms pointing to the air.

She turned to where they were pointing and in the sky, she immediately spotted something that she's quite literally never seen before. The closest thing she immediately drew comparisons with were Vertibirds, but this machine was much larger and blockier. The two "wings" it had didn't have rotors but two large "blocks" that were somehow able to fly across the air. It had a whole assortment of protrusions over its body, the ex-Scribe immediately theorizing what purpose they could possibly serve. As it got closer a loud screeching noise got louder, not too dissimilar the sound a rocket makes when flying. And standing out from its matte-black body, two bright red lines were on the front end of its "cockpit" as if they were eyes. Redder than a Cazador's. The awe she was in from this flying machine turned into shock as several rockets launched from ports on its side. Flying in conjunction towards her.

"Ruuuunnnn!"

Her feet stomped as fast as she could muster as she narrowly dodges a barrage of tiny rockets. Feeling the shockwave even through her armor. Way too close for comfort and almost knocked her down from the blasts. It wasn't over, the flying machine then passing over them as powerful mounted guns rained munitions on them. The guns deafening the air as it flew over them. Making the ground pop and eviscerating anything caught in the gun run. Veronica fired at the large target, but it was too fast for her to land a shot.

"Parmley, use your rockets," she yelled, watching the aircraft.

"I can't!" the Ranger lamented, grabbing at the weapon system but unable to even retrieve it. "It's jammed."

With barely any other options left, she looked out to the rest of the facility and saw there was a large contingent of vehicles approaching them. An armada of cars carrying personnel and machine gun heading their way. Some more flying machines, too. Too much for them to handle, even with all the gear they had. Deciding they were out in the open for too long, she gathered the others and took them around the building. Good timing, too, as they narrowly avoided another gun run from the alien flying machine. Practically demolishing the front of the building.

Now taking cover at the back of the building, they found a chain-link fence that separated the base from the rest of the world. Some hills and mountains not too far from where they were. Leading out into the vast expanse of the desert.

"Guys, we got a problem. A big one," Veronica said, kneeling and addressing them. "We just kicked a Cazador's nest because there is a literal army coming to us right now. Also, because there are things flying around here trying to kill us, too."

"Like we haven't noticed that?" Boone questioned, his sunglasses failing to hide his scowl.

"So, since we're between rocks and hard places… Any ideas?"

They all silently looked amongst each other, their predicament making them sweat more than the arid air. Not even one hour into their transportal excursion, they managed to piss off an approaching army on a military base surrounded by miles of desert. Using technology they've never seen while still looking largely human and even speaking English. The Wastelanders thought the Wastes would prepare for seeing some unimaginable shit throughout their lives, but it never prepared them for what teleportation would entail. The person they were looking for could probably deal with this more healthily. At least, that's what they hoped.

Knowing that dying here would have been a waste and they would need to get out of here fighting, regardless, Boone thought of a way they could buy themselves time. Hopefully, throw these guys off their trail with what they would attempt. Something he prepared in case, but not something he thought he would have to use immediately. Granted, he didn't count on the Vertibird's long-lost cousin trying to blow them up. The point drove further home as a stray rocket demolished a corner of the building they were hiding behind.

"Veronica, turn around," Boone requested, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "There's something in the pack we use."

"What?" she was confused.

"Turn around and I'll show you."

A bit wary of what that meant, she did as she was asked anyway and knelt for him to reach. Her Sniper friend immediately went to one of the bags and began rummaging through the contents, not taking too long as she heard it get zipped up, again. Hearing him step back with what he needed.

"Is that…" the Ranger drew out, recognizing what he saw.

"Yeah…" the Sniper confirmed for him.

The Scribe turned around and was immediately greeted by the egg-shaped body of a piece of ordinance used by the M42 Fat Man nuclear-explosive launcher. A Mini Nuke, with what appeared to be a fuse and an egg timer duct taped to it.

"Boone… Where did you get that?" Veronica asked, more than unnerved that she was carrying  _that_  on her back this entire time.

"Found it," was his response.

"What did you do to it?"

"Turned it into a mine, basically. Should go off after a set amount of time. We don't have a launcher, so, I had to make do. Nathan taught me how to do it."

"How… How many am I carrying, right now?"

"… A few."

"No… Did you-?!"

"Guys, there's a fucking army chasing us!" Parmley screamed in their ear, his helmet modulating his voice. "We need to go!"

Craig and Veronica exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. Parmley and her gathered the rest of their things and the dogs before making their way to the hills. Breaking through and knocking down a section of the chain-link fence. As they got a head start and made their way through the desert, Boone got to set the charge down somewhere hidden and arming it. Given he had rigged it to blow with an egg timer, the highest amount of time he could give it was  _five-damn-minutes_. Thankfully, with a sizable hill on the other side of the chain-link fence, he could probably avoid most of the blast and fallout if he ran fast enough. Hoping he had packed Rad-Away on Veronica's back. Then, he watched one of those strange aircraft fly over him back to its base as it was smoking and escaping a barrage of green goop.

Taking that as his cue, he twisted the knob all the way around and wasted no time running to the desert, running over the chain-link fence, and climbing over the hill. Having done similar things many times before, but with  _a lot_  more haste. Clearing the hill, he could see Veronica, Parmley, and the dogs already ahead of him. Veronica occasionally firing back to make sure the aircraft stayed away. Boone barely able to catch up to them as he ran over the rocky terrain, making sure to not lose his beret or rifle. Only inching closer and closer as time passed.

By the time the egg timer had reached the two-minute mark, the group was well over a half-mile away from the blast zone. The humans in power armor hearing the hydraulics and mechanisms of their legs as it got hot within their armor, the dogs panting furiously as they ran in front of their human friends. Boone just making sure he was far enough to not instantly lose his skin. Suddenly, the ground at their feet began popping and Veronica turned around to see some vehicles and soldiers were climbing over the hill they had just left. Aircraft beginning to hover around the area. Veronica raised her P94 to give suppressing fire, but the world suddenly became white and she had to raise her hand up to shield her eyes even with the helmet.

The sound of the explosion arrived not even a second later, all the dust and rocks being thrown about as the shockwave overtook them across the hills. As her vision adjusted and she regained her footing across the salt flats, she saw the flaming mushroom cloud of the Mini Nuke rise hundreds of feet up into the sky. Seeing the flame burn within it as the cloud began to take shape before turning into an ashy gray. However, she and the others had to shield themselves when hundreds of pieces of debris and remains were thrown in the general direction. Having a few closes with sizable car parts and scrap metal, kicking up the salt. She watched as an aircraft was spinning and tumbling out of the sky before crashing into the hillside, turning into a ball of flame that mixed in with the large cloud that caused and dwarfed it. Where there was once an armada of cars, people, and flying machines, there was nothing but silence as the nuclear dust from the Fat Man was still settling. Anything at ground zero vaporized.

The air hung heavy, the sun's light taking a second to come back after the detonation. Veronica hearing the Geiger Counter in her suit tick a little as they stood there, watching the mushroom cloud bellow even higher in the sky. Then, not even looking back, Boone ran past them and still made his way across the salt flats.

"Come on!" he urged, taking a second to look back at them. "I only bought us some time, let's go!

She was pretty sure he did much more than that, looking back at the base they had partially-decimated. Finally, turning on her heel and running further into the desert. Away from the fallout.


	50. R&R?

Nathan never liked getting up in the mornings. He always found it such a chore to even muster up the inclination to get up from bed, to not immediately fall asleep the second he woke up and plopped his head onto a pillow, again. A struggle to even keep his eyes open when he barely felt conscious. His eye-lids staying shut of their own accord, barely able to do anything about it. Not even the sunlight had much of an effect on him, and he  _hated_  the morning sun.

Nonetheless, he was able to sit up along the edge of the bed, but not immediately getting off. Drowsiness still racked his brain and he rested his elbows on his knees while he sat there, stirring in his own tired thoughts. His vision as if his eyes were glossed over. Trying to feel anything else but exhaustion. As if waiting for himself to miraculously get a boost of energy and finally start his day. It used to be relatively easier for him to get up early and get a move on – easier to happily and willingly do it, as well – but it probably was his older age catching up to him. Among other things.

Wallowing in his fatigue a little longer, he looked up from the floor and could see the room more clearly. The numbing sensation in his eyeballs now gone, for the time being. One step closer to being ready for the day and get back to the Watchpoint to… Do what?

His tired thoughts were disturbed as he heard yawning and felt the bed shift behind him. A set of arms wrapping around his stomach.

" _Buenos días_ , sleepyhead," María greeted, propping herself on her knees and leaning her nude body against his back. Only able to rest her head at the nape of his neck.

"Mornin'," James greeted back, wiping more of the drowsiness from his eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, adjusting herself and hugging him tighter.

"Yeah. You?"

" _Muy mucho_."

"Hmph."

Nathan sat up and stretched, his arms going high into the air as he could feel and hear his joints pop and his muscles tighten. A few involuntary groans of comfort escaping his mouth. Finished, he sat there and felt the warmth of her body radiating through his back and the mildly cold hotel room air touching his front. The cozy, temperate condition of the hotel room almost made him not want to get off the bed.

Groaning in mild frustration, he was about to stand up from the bed to retrieve his clothes. He was impeded when he felt the arms around his abdomen tighten.

"Going somewhere?" as if she had to ask.

"Yes. Work," he simply answered, reaching down and gently trying to pry her arms from him. She only doubled her efforts.

"Aww, can't you just stay a little longer,  _por favor_? We can talk a bit more."

"We talked plenty last night."

"A bunch of groans and moans barely qualifies as conversation. Come on, you seemed really stressed when you came to me last night and haven't said anything. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it or at least relax a bit more?"

The bed moved more as María got to rest her chin on his shoulder, prompting him to look back and regard those purple eyes. The lights on her cranium casting a glow onto his head.

While he was certain it wouldn't be a good idea to just talk about his problems considering they were of a delicate nature, the thought of just staying here a bit longer was being entertained. The feeling of her body pressing up against him while they were both in the nude and on a comfortable bed not making it easy. His sex drive about to get the better of him as he felt a little firm.

Aside from that, it wasn't like he was being pressed into going back to the Watchpoint. There would be no mission, no objective, and no task waiting for him there. No real rhyme or reason other than making sure they know he isn't missing and that no one has messed with his stuff. Maybe to check on Bastion and Ganymede, see how they've been faring. Seeing what new experiments he was being an assistant to this time. Probably something for him to do.

"Maybe later," he answered over his shoulder. "Right now, I'm going to be late."

"Umm, it's 11."

Nathan looked at his Pip-Boy, seeing it indeed was half-past 11 in the morning. Much later than he had intended to sleep in.

"Ah, shit," he cursed, finally getting her arms off him when he stood up from the bed. Retrieving his clothes off the floor.

María frowned when he had finally escaped her grasp but rolled her eyes as she let him go forth with his business. At least, for the meantime.

"Fine!" she groaned, mumbling in Spanish as she flopped onto the bed and reached for her phone. "I might not be here if you come back, though.  _Mi jefe está en mi culo, otra vez_."

"Can't blame him," Nathan remarked, watching the Latina lay on her side with her augmented back to him, giving a nice view of her ass.

Finding and putting on his boxers, shirt, and pants were easy enough even if they were scattered all over the room. However, as he tied the laces of his boots and got ready to return to the Watchpoint, he felt he was missing something but couldn't quite place what. He patted his pockets, finding his pocket knife, lighter, and pack of smokes where they should. His aviators on the counter right next to the bottle of whiskey they shared. And his Pip-Boy obviously still latched to his left arm. After patting his pockets a few more times but feeling his pants a bit lighter than they should, he realized that he was missing his sidearm.

"Oh, Goddammit," he muttered under his breath as he began searching for his weapon, more anxious than he was just a second earlier.

"Looking for this?"

Nathan spun around to see the Latina lying on her back and holding his SIG in one hand while she held what looked like a metallic cigarette in the other. She examined the sidearm, the barrel pointed to the ceiling, as she locked her lips around the butt and inhaled. The sound of air rushing through the device as she breathed. Then letting go and puffing out a large white cloud from her mouth. The smoke wafting in the air before dissipating like vapor. If the Wastelander was being honest with himself, that sight was kind of hot. Would've been hotter if it was a cigarette or cigar, though.

"That ain't a toy, you know," Nathan firmly stated, walking over to her side.

"I know," María shrugged, turning the pistol around and showing her finger was straight and off the trigger. "Which means you shouldn't leave it around like one."

"Point taken."

"Still, not a bad choice. A bit of an old design, but it still works."

"You know guns, now?"

"I know enough to be safe with them," she answered, flipping the gun on its axis, and having the barrel point away from her muse as she handed it to him.

Nathan grabbed it and made sure she hadn't messed with it before sliding it into his holster. However, he became enamored by the fake-cigarette she was taking drags from. Enough for her to notice and hold that one out to him.

"Want a hit?" she offered cordially.

Not above trying anything new, he grabbed the little stick of metal in-between his thumb and index finger and wrapped his lips around the metal butt. Giving a long, drawn-out pull and feeling his lungs get filled, he expelled the vapor from his mouth and nostrils. It wasn't as strong as a cigarette, but it gave him a little sense of euphoria.

"Is this water vapor?" he asked, coughing a bit as he felt it get moist inside.

"Uhhh…  _Sí_. It's a vape, dude," she answered, curious as to how he never heard of a vape if he smokes cigarettes constantly.

Nathan started clicking his tongue, tasting a fruity and sweet aroma in his mouth.

"What's in that?"

"Watermelon flavor."

* * *

After getting his sidearm back and taking a quick sip of the alcohol that was still left, Nathan opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, but not before turning around and regarding María.

"Have fun at work," the Logistics Analyst wished, grabbing his head, and bringing it down to give him a kiss. Tasting the whiskey and watermelon.

"Yeah, right," the Courier replied, unable to hold back that smirk as soon as they separated.

With that, she shut the door and he started walking through the hall to the exit. His morning buzz more bearable when he got to the elevator doors.

Taking them and reaching the ground level, he stepped out when the doors opened and was making his way through the hotel's main lobby. Seeing a lot of people around and trying to make his way through the area quick. Not wanting to draw any attention to himself, just get through the lobby unnoticed and incognito. Not that he was doing anything suspicious, aside from being taller than most people and having scars all over his body. Thankfully, nobody seemed to care in crowded places like these.

"Oi, there you are!"

When they didn't know him, that is.

Looking to his right, he saw Lena sitting in one of the lobby chairs with a backpack next to her on the floor. The chair big enough for her to cross her legs while she held her phone. A baseball cap was smothering her spiky hair with a pair of aviators over her eyes, most likely to remain incognito in public.

"Oxton? The hell are you doing here?" Nathan clearly surprised to see her here.

"Well, that's a nice way to say hello," the Brit commented, taking her earbuds out. "Came here looking for you, you knob."

"Why?"

"Because you've been missing all last night. Athena's been worried sick about you!"

"She doesn't have to, I'm fine. I was just…"

"Off shagging the nightlight?"

"…Yeah, what else would I do? Would you like me to give you an 'after-action report'? Details are pretty repetitive."

"Really? Cause I'd imagine reading it might put me to sleep."

"I can give you a timestamp for the climax."

"Ugh, let's just go, already! Before somebody hears us."

"Yes. Let's. Or else they'll notice the person wearing sunglasses indoors."

With Lena hopping off and grabbing her backpack, the two headed to the lobby's exit and made it out of the hotel without a scratch.

Now, they were out on the Gibraltar streets and heading back to the Watchpoint. Nathan wearing his aviators, too, as the day was bright and sunny. The ocean currents blowing a cooling breeze onto the land. Would've made a nice stroll if it wasn't for the taller man naturally setting the pace with his gait and forcing Lena to walk faster just to keep up. Other than that, they couldn't really complain.

"Anything happened while I was gone?" Nathan asked, now fully wide awake with the sun on him.

"Yes, actually, our little 'bellboy' had the absolute shit beaten out of him," Lena somberly recounted.

'Oh…  _Right,_ ' the Courier then remembered what had happened the night before without a serious hangover to impede his memory. "Ah, shit. When?" he then asked aloud, acting oblivious to the incident.

"Last night. He's in the infirmary right now and we're trying to figure out who the attacker was."

"Wouldn't he know?"

"He said it was too dark when it happened, and he couldn't get a good look. Not to mention his face being messed up."

' _Good,_ ' the Courier thought to himself, before speaking. "I knew keeping his ass here would've brought nothing but trouble. Now what?"

"Everyone thought it would be best to keep him in the Watchpoint, for now. Watch over him. Fareeha even suggested keeping him in his cell just to be sure. Ana was able to convince her otherwise."

Lena's face became sullener after she said that, one corner of her lip twisting. Nathan noticing the silence as he glanced at her.

"You… Alright?" he slowly asked.

"I dunno, I guess I feel a bit bad for him after what he's gone through, even if he still technically is a part of the enemy," she admitted. "He isn't even a soldier, just somebody whose job was more of the technical stuff."

"Aside from all the spying he did," Nathan was quick to remind the Overwatch agent.

"Right, but it still sucks what happened to him. He hasn't really hurt anyone here. Been quite pleasant to talk with despite appearances. Kinda like you."

What she had said almost made Nathan stop in his tracks, but he only cast another glance as he kept walking alongside her.

"Sure. I'm just surprised he didn't get his ass beaten, sooner. Especially by any of us," he replied but wanting to switch the topic of the conversation to anything else. "So, why'd you come?"

"What?"

"I mean, why specifically did  _you_  come to the hotel to retrieve me? Seems like it would've been more convenient to send someone else. Maybe even the Kid."

"Hana?"

"Yeah, her. Did Athena or Winston ask you to do this?"

"They didn't really ask me. I just volunteered when they asked if anyone could."

The word "volunteered" made him squint, hidden beneath his glasses.

"Oh… How did you find me, then?"

"Wasn't hard asking around and seeing if anyone saw 'a tall, bearded man with a lot of scars and a weird thing on his forearm'."

"Really?"

"Actually, I just went straight to the hotel since I saw you go there before. Obviously, I know why."

"Of course… How's Emily, by the way?"

They walked through the rest of the city together, still chatting and talking as they did. Even continuing to talk to each other as they began to scale the mountains and up towards the "condemned" surrounding area and perimeter of the Watchpoint. The seasoned Wastelander having an easier and more pleasant time scaling the mountainside than the short Briton. By the time they had gone through one of the many "entrances" of the base – a large enough hole in the chain-link fence – they were still in the middle of a back and forth regarding Nathan's girlfriend. The subject destined to be brought up, again, even after his attempts to prevent it.

"I'm just trying to understand why you seem so interested in what's between me and her. Should I let Emily know or…?" Nathan asked, joking as he brought up her girlfriend.

"I just don't like her, mate. As simple as that," Lena answered, shrugging. "She doesn't strike me as someone I would get along with."

"Not a fan of purple hair?"

"Hah! You should've seen me when I was younger. I'm pretty sure my hair had more artificial dye in it than hers."

"Not even that would bring you two together?"

"Nope. And I don't really care who you drain your bollocks into, that's your business, but I can't help being a little miffed when she's around. Knowing she's taken you for a muse."

"Well, I understand the sentiment, but at the same time, the sex ain't half bad."

"You've got your standards in order, mate."

Nathan smirked, fully aware of the irony and how he wasn't really in a true relationship. At a point where he didn't really care and just needed an "outlet" to distract himself from everything else. It wasn't complicated. The Courier was still human, after all.

However, that smirk went away when they both heard jet engines and watched as one of the ships flew overhead. Heading towards the West.

"That's odd…" the Pilot observed. "There wasn't any mission scheduled for today. Looks like something came up. Wanna go ask what all of that was about?"

"I think I'd rather go to my room and start sorting things out," Nathan tiredly declined. "I've been meaning to do that, and I'm finally on leave. You go ahead; Tell me what it is, later."

"Okay, then. See ya'!"

The Brit saluted with two fingers before blinking away further into the base. Brin watching her blue streaks flash in front of him until they were gone.

With everything quiet, again, Nathan silently walked back to the Residential Wing.

In only a few minutes, he had reached the door of his personal quarters. Finding the door itself to be spotless and without any decorations or notes taped onto it. Taking a step forward, the door slid open and he walked into his room to find it unoccupied, with all his things where they were when he left the night before.

As soon as he set foot inside, the window became more transparent to let in the Mediterranean sun.

"Good afternoon, Nathan," Athena greeted him.

"Afternoon, Athena. How are things?"

"I am doing well, thank you for asking. How are you?"

"Invigorated, I guess," the Waster admitted.

He then walked over to the office chair at his desk and plopped down onto the seat, making it creak under his weight. His ass welcoming the comfy cushion.

"Lena told me what happened when she came to pick me up. Sorry I got you worryin'."

"It's all right, Nathan. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You left rather abruptly last night. Is everything still fine?"

"Yes, everything's fine. I just needed to visit that 'friend' for the night."

"By visit, you mean to have a sexual rendezvous, yes?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"Did you use protection?"

"Yes, I never leave home without it. You're starting to sound like my mom, Athena."

"I just want to make sure. It would be rather unfortunate to have to refer you to Dr. Ziegler if you had contracted something."

"Would be  _even worse_  if I ended up knocking someone up. I haven't ever since I started, and I intend to keep that streak going."

"I applaud you for your efforts, then" Athena played an audio cue of clapping throughout his room.

Nathan laughed a little at the silly route their conversation took. It only seemed fair to be straight and truthful to her, given how much she cared about everyone's well-being on this base. Which only made him frown even more.

"Is there something wrong, Nathan?" Athena then piped in.

"What? Oh, no. Nothing's wrong," he told himself, slinking back into the chair further. "It's just that I'm on leave now. Don't have any mission or assignment for me to attend. Don't have to hop across continents for now. No need to spend the week before prepping. You were there, you saw what happened. Now I'm… Sitting here."

Nathan Brin got so accustomed to flying all over the world for Overwatch, becoming accustomed to being to so many new places, meeting so many new faces, and shooting so many new faces. In the months he's been stuck here, he had been anticipating a chance to finally relax and when he got it…

"Isn't as satisfying as I'd imagined," Nathan confessed.

"To be fair, Nathan, you had only just started," Athena responded, this time making herself appear at his desk with a holoscreen. "It can be difficult trying to adjust to new circumstances. Especially circumstances where you're not expected to do anything at all. But I'm sure there are plenty of activities to help boost your levels of contentment."

"I don't think 'contentment' is something you can quantify, Athena."

"It's only a figure of speech. Look, I'm sure there's something here you can enjoy."

Before he could even ask what she meant by that, another holoscreen appeared in front of hers and displayed a bulleted list of "activities". Nathan leaned in for a closer look, his eyes skimming each item that was currently on the screen. Reaching a finger out and scrolling down to find other items on the list. Squinting as he read them. Not really sure what some of these were.

"The hell's ' _yoga_ '?" the Waster questioned, scrolling and perusing through more of the webpage. "Wait, is this… A website? The Internet has its own version of crappy self-help books? That's comforting."

"A lot of people have found a use for such websites, Nathan. That's why they're there in the first place. Although, I can understand why some of the things listed won't appeal to you. I'll make sure to scour the Internet for more agreeable activities."

"I'm sure you will."

"If that doesn't appeal to you, is there anything you had in mind?"

Brin glanced at Athena, leaning back in his chair and looking around his room. When it came to the things  _he_  wanted to do, stuff that was of his own volition and benefit, it seemed like they were constantly on his mind whenever he was away from Gibraltar. Now, back at Gibraltar and upon retrospect, his mind was running blank as he tried to figure out what to do. As if his brain had forgotten the instant he came back. Surely, a partially severed brainstem wouldn't leave him to be completely amnesiac, would it?

Did his guns need cleaning? No, he always cleaned them after every mission. After every range trip, even.

Did his armor need patching? His duster is long gone, and no amount of sewing can bring it back to working order. His cuirass and helmet were still fine, save for the centuries-old scratches and dings. That didn't matter much.

Did his inventory need sorting? He wouldn't be a very seasoned Wastelander if it wasn't. Everything, all his belongings, kept nice and tidy within his room. To make things easy to sort and find, to preserve some of his sanity. A habit cultivated in his profession, by default. One of the few things he feels like he's in control of. Making this home feel a bit more like his home.

'What else could I even do…?' he silently contemplated, not getting any answer from himself.

"Maybe you could help around the base?" Athena finally broke the silence that ensued from her last question, breaking Nathan from his train of thought.

"What?"

"Yesterday, you had asked Winston about the other 'high-priorities' and alluded to offering some of your assistance."

The Courier could barely remember ever saying that.

"Helping with some 'chores', so to speak," Athena further clarified. "And I'm not suggesting going on a mission, obviously. Not even suggesting leaving the base. Just something productive, and hopefully, fulfilling to help keep yourself busy. I'm sure there's someone here who could use your help. Wouldn't mind having an extra hand. Can you think of anyone on the base that could?"

'Dr. Ziegler,' Nathan Brin immediately thought, knowing that the resident doctor was seemingly always up to her neck in work. Whether life-saving or not. He only relented to say anything given the news of her most recent patient.

Thankfully, knowing her, it wouldn't be long until his ass was out of the infirmary. Maybe then, he'd want to pay the Doctor a visit. One without a medical reason behind it.

"Yeah…" was all he wanted to say.

Huffing through his nose, he sat back in his chair and stared at his desk. The neatly piled pieces of paper, assorted writing utensils, and organized tools spread all over the black glass. Wiping a finger across the glass to see some dust had collected. Rubbing it into his thumb.

As his eyes kept wandering the desk, it eventually landed on a piece of paper that shined in the light of the room. He reached over to it and brought it in front of him, the photograph of all his companions in front of the lodge. Only feeling regret the more he gazed at it.

"You know Nathan… You could use this picture to wash away any doubts about you being from another world. The piece of evidence you're holding is pretty convincing," Athena suggested.

"Yeah… Damning, indeed," Nathan responded, before setting the photo down.

He sat back in his chair, silently staring into nowhere and clasping his hands at his stomach. Occasionally rocking in his chair as he got sucked into his mind. His room was quiet aside from the gentle humming of the computer and the occasional waves outside his window. The silence in his room giving way to the noise outside his door, but even there he could hear nothing. As if nothing was happening and the world had fallen still for the moment. This silence almost tantalizing to the old Waster, wanting to revel in it for a few minutes longer.

" _Mjau._ "

The silence permitted that little noise to be heard, and he rotated his chair to his door, where it had originated from. Nathan waited, hearing nothing but the quiet air.

" _Mjau_ ," the noise emanated, again, with a series of scraping noises accompanying it just a second later. The scratching almost making Nathan reach to his sidearm.

"Athena, what the hell is that?" he asks, eyes switching between the door and her.

"It appears you have a little visitor," the AI answered, sounding like she was smiling.

The Waster looked at her for a second until he got up from the chair and stepped over to the door. Standing right up against it, he placed an ear onto it and listened to the scratching persist. It didn't sound like claws or talons, only like several tiny needles gently rubbing against the door. Keeping his hand close to the SIG, he swiftly grabbed the door and opened it, only to be greeted by an empty hallway. He was confused until he lowered his gaze a little further and saw the yellow eyes of the Lindholm's tiger-striped cat. The fluffy little thing standing on its hind legs before settling down on its front paws, too. Nathan leaned forward to poke his head out of the doorway and looked across the hall, seeing it was empty on both sides. Looking down at the cat more confused.

Stepping back, he closed the door and was about to sit back in his chair until he heard the scratching again. Opening the door, the cat was still at his feet.

" _Mjau_ ," it went off again, looking up at the tall man with those big yellow eyes.

The Wastelander narrowed his eyes at the feline.

"What do you want?" he asked as he squatted as close to the ground as possible, the cat coming up to his knee.

" _Mjau,_ " it responded, then stepping over to one leg and rubbing its body all over him.

Nathan perked an eyebrow as he felt the fur rub against his pants. Watching as the cat twirled and went for a second pass, rubbing against his knee with the other side of its body. The cat did this a couple of more times, Nathan then reaching out with his right hand and petting the small creature. Feeling how soft and fluffy its orange fur felt.

However, as soon as his fingers graced its coat, the cat let out another meow and walked off into the hallway. Nathan watched it go a couple of feet from his door until it stopped and sat down, looking back at him from where it was.

" _Mjau!_ "

The Waster narrowed his eyes more, wondering what it wanted. He stood up, which prompted the cat to stand up and walk a few more feet into the hall. It stopped and looked back at him again to meow. He looked at it, almost in disbelief, but looked back at the inside of his room. Seeing it was empty and spotting the photograph on his desk. Seeing the dogs that were at the very front of the group.

Sighing, he stepped out into the hallway and began following the cat. The tiger-striped feline meowing and trotting ahead, but occasionally looking back to make sure the human was still behind him. Nathan wasn't sure what it wanted or what it was even doing; Obviously more experienced with dogs. Fairly certain its kind was largely extinct back home.

Regardless, he followed the cat as it led him across the base. The small animal sometimes rubbing and walking in between his large legs, almost tripping him at times. Taking the time to look back and meow, to make sure Nathan wasn't planning to go anywhere else.

He wasn't, but this curious cat was intriguing enough for him to follow. Wondering what the little guy's deal was. Letting it take point, reminding him when he would let his dogs do the same. Their snouts ready to sniff the air and point to any unseen dangers. Although, he wasn't sure the Lindholms' kitty wasn't wasteland capable.

The cat barely strayed off the path it chose, only occasionally sniffing at the ground or looking at something of minor interest. Eventually, the cat took a hard right and walked into a room. Nathan followed it and found themselves in the mess hall. The area empty and quiet, save for some people sitting at the bar. The cat continuing to walk over to where that bar was.

Instantly, Nathan had second thoughts about walking over there, but one last glance back from those little yellow eyes was enough for him to take another step forward into the mess.

It didn't take long for him to reach the other side of the room, getting closer to see the ones occupying the stools were Genji, Zenyatta, and Reinhardt. The two humans were enjoying steaming little cups of tea, while the omnic in between them tended to the teapot. They all looked over their shoulders when Nathan and the cat approached.

" _Ödländer!_  I see  _Tiger_  has found a person willing to be his feeder," the German exclaimed, regarding them both with his one eye. "Welcome!"

"Is that it, huh?" the New Californian questions, standing by them as the cat then hops up onto the counter and next to him. A bit startled by how the tiny thing was able to achieve that.

"He found no such luck with us. Brigitte doesn't want us to encourage bad behavior, but her father is more easily swayed by the little trickster."

"Don't we have regulations against keeping pets here?"

"Bah, who cares? Just another holdover from when we were 'legitimate'. Already broken a dozen as far as I'm concerned."

"Right, and where are the Lindholms, anyway?"

"Occupied, I presume. Brigitte and I recently finished a sparring session, so she went off for some rest. And her father, well, that's self-explanatory."

"Sparring? Ain't you sore from the last mission, old man?"

"A little ache isn't something to cry about. In fact, I consider them good motivators! Isn't that right my little monk friend?"

"It can be an excellent teacher when it is not excessive and debilitating, yes," Zenyatta clarified, pouring Reinhardt some more tea. "Would you care to join us for some tea, Nathan? Or would you like to wait for what the chef will prepare?"

They all looked at Nathan as soon as he asked that question, seeing the cups steaming with a white vapor.

"Can the chef prepare coffee?" the Waster asked, sitting down on the stool between Genji and Tiger.

"He most certainly can try," the Monk answered.

The use of the word "try" confused Nathan and didn't really give him the confidence he wanted, but he wasn't much of a stickler for coffee. Barely had enough of it back home.

"How are you guys, anyway?" Nathan asked as he leaned against the counter, relaxing.

"Rejuvenated," Genji answered, cupping his tea between his metal hands.

"Thirsty for more," Reinhardt claimed, holding his cup in between his finger and thumb.

Nathan could only agree with the German's statement, already getting a hankering for something to wet his whistle.

His wish was about to be fulfilled, somewhat, as the "chef" walked up to the patrons. Making the floor slightly tremble with every mechanical step he made. Nathan looked up and was more than surprised to see it was Bastion, wearing a black cloth apron over his chassis.

"What?"

"Beedoo Beedoo!" the Bastion Unit greeted, waving his one hand much more naturally but still robotically stiff.

"…When the hell did this happen?"

"Bedo chirt vee roo!"

"That long ago?! How the hell did I not notice?"

"Qiiiiirrrr bed doo boo bop boop."

"I thought she took you for experiments?"

"Kee Boop."

"Ah, I see." the Waster learned, now aware of what had happened with his big, metal friend. Just never expected him to take on this role. "That's good to hear, Bastion."

Genji leaned next to Zenyatta, holding one hand to shield his mouth as he asked, "Master, do you know what they're saying?"

Bastion and Nathan's conversation kept going, the latter learning quite a lot of what the large omnic has been up to. The human surprised he hasn't been aware of what has been happening this entire time. Albeit, he was silently impressed with how much he's grown ever since. That apron fitting rather nicely.

"Alright, then, show me what you got," Nathan said, wanting to test him.

"Zwee?"

"Some coffee, please"

"Boo speesoo?"

"An espress-what? Sure, just whatever's good."

Jovially beeping, Bastion turned his back to the counter and walked over to where the machines for making coffee were. With his good hand, he worked and actuated the coffee-makers with machine precision and efficiency. All the patrons peering their heads over to see what the bot was doing. A series of beeps and boops playing as he quickly prepared the beverage, almost sounding like a song, the coffee-maker making noises that Nathan wasn't sure needed to be made. Finally, with one last movement and click of a button, Bastion spun around with a tiny cup on a tiny plate. With a little steam rising from the golden-brown surface of the drink.

"Huh," Nathan thinking that was a large amount of work for such a tiny cup as it was placed in front of him. It smelled nice, though, and he was about to grab it until Bastion stuck his blowtorch into the cup. "Wait, what are you-?"

A sudden burst of air gushed out and Nathan flinched as coffee sprayed all over him. Not drenching him but covering his shirt and face in a dozen little brown specks. After wiping his face into his shirt, he opened his eyes to see the little cup looked frothier. Looking up to see Bastion staring at him with his unblinking eye, waiting in anticipation.

The Wastelander apprehensively took the cup off the mini-coffee and gave it a good sniff, before bringing the edge to his lips. He took one small sip but felt his tongue get assault by a wave of flavors. Feeling a burst of energy get absorbed through his tongue. He gave Bastion a thumb up, which elated the omnic.

"Good job," he said, ignoring all the new stains on his shirt.

As he went in for a second sip, he felt a furry paw touch his arm and turned to see Tiger looking at him. He tried to drink, again, but the cat was quick to tap him on the arm for the second time. The Waster pretty sure that this hopped up coffee isn't a part of the feline diet.

Thankfully, Tiger's attention was taken away from his beverage when the noise of flapping wings occurred over them, and they saw Ganymede perched on top of Bastion's finger. The bird returning from whatever it was doing back to its metal friend. The omnic taking his time to say hello to his feathery friend.

However, before Nathan could even comment on how that wasn't the most sanitary place to keep a bird in the mess, a chittering noise made him look at Tiger and see the cat staring very intently at Ganymede. His tail flicking as he buried his rump into the countertop and his pupils dilated into black holes. Bearing his canines as his mouth opened and clicked when he made that chittering noise. The Wastelander knowing that's the face of a predator about to pounce.

Nearly about to drop his coffee to stop the cat, a blue flash lit up the room and he blinked to see Lena now sitting and spinning in the stool next to him, holding the fluffy cat against her chest. Tiger's eyes more startled than bloodthirsty. At least he was restrained, and Ganymede would be safe, for now.

"Ooooh, you're so cute!" Lena smiled as she squished the cat with her arms. Tiger not nearly as excited to see her. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey, Lena," Nathan greeted, breathing easy as he took another sip of his coffee. Feeling his mind get a bit clearer with every drop. "You find out what that ship was all about?"

"Yup. Turns out Winston sent off Jack and Ana to the U.S. to investigate a disturbance that we picked up just last night."

"What type of disturbance?"

"I dunno. Winston wasn't sure either, but he seemed rather worried about what he saw. Would rather have boots on the ground to confirm his suspicions."

"Where in the U.S., specifically?"

"Nevada."

Nathan almost choked on his drink when he heard the state mentioned, turning to look earnestly at her.

"Nevada? What? Did a nuke go off?" he questioned but smirking and chuckling all the while.

"Almost seemed like it. Winston's office was practically in a frenzy when I went there. Fareeha was there, too, trying to coordinate with any Helix contacts she had in the U.S. I hope it's nothing, though…" Oxton hoped before she turned her attention to the cat she held prisoner "What about you? Do you know what it is?"

" _Mjau!_ " Tiger responded, though, probably not to answer but to plead.

"Careful, Lena, Brigitte still wants him in one piece," Reinhardt urged.

"You're not trying to nick some of their food are ya'? You know you shouldn't put your mitts on what they're eating, huh?"

"Heh," Brin let out an amused huff, watching Lena suffocate the fluffy cat. "I used to have the same problem with my dog."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I've tried to keep him away from the table, but someone kept giving him scraps. Put the idea in his head that he can just sit there all day long and give you  _those_  eyes until you caved in."

He frowned as he thought about those times until a quaint smile slowly replaced it.

"What was his name?" Lena asked, stroking the kitty on her lap.

"Guts. He was still a good dog."


	51. Tourists

45 Miles Southwest of Decommissioned Watchpoint: Groom Lake, Nevada, Mojave Desert

2076

The Mojave Search Party had escaped the hostile base they had teleported into, leaving a mushroom cloud behind. Instead of trying to find the Courier, they were currently focused on putting as much distance between them and that facility as they could. Only stopping to take short periods of rest or to take cover from more aircraft they spotted in the sky, unsure if they belonged to the enemy. Eventually, they stopped worrying about the sky when they saw nothing but the Sun and a few rogue clouds. A long stretch of barren desert behind and before them, the base no longer in sight.

They kept trudging along on their armored boots and paws. The seasoned Wastelanders no stranger to traveling long distances in the Mojave, at walking speed or in slight jogs. Able to do it for hours on end in the blistering day or the frigid night. Their breaths, heartbeats, and footsteps kept in a regulated rhythm. Veronica running with the sun in her eyes and breathing alongside the others in her party. It almost felt like she was trudging through the Mojave again with Nathan. Only she was the one leading the pack.

However, even though she was in Power Armor and could practically run the breadth of the Nevada-California border, she still had the others to look after. Cooper and Boone weren't outfitted with top-of-the-line armor or Pre-War cybernetics, but they were able to take care of themselves. Veronica was more worried for the one in T-51b, as she noticed his movements were a bit more sluggish than earlier and a raspy pant sometimes escaped his helmet.

"Hey, Parmley, are you alright?" she looked over her shoulder. "You don't sound too well."

"Yeah, been walking in this suit of armor for hours, now," he sounded exhausted and close to passing out under the armor. "It's goddamn hot; I can feel my ass getting cooked! How can the Brotherhood stand being in these things all day?!"

"Umm, you have the internal air conditioning system on, right?"

"…The what?" Parmley asked, momentarily brought out from his exhaustion.

With a groan, the ex-Scribe walked over to him and kept his helmet still as she reached around to flip a switch. Parmley heard multiple fans and vents inside the suit come to life as cool air washed over his body. The sweat on his face becoming ice-cold as the air reached up to him. Moaning in delight as he felt his ass no longer getting cooked and sensed a fine breeze blasting it.

"Ooooooohhh… Why the hell don't rangers have this?" the young ranger let out.

"Don't want the Black Armor, anymore?" Boone smirked.

"If I ever live long enough to earn it, I'll wear it underneath this. Goddamn, I feel like taking a nap, now."

Veronica was amused by Parmley discovering the modern conveniences of Power Armor, but his exhaustion made her frown under her helmet when she looked at the horizon around them. The sun was getting close to setting in the west and it wouldn't be long before they would be forced to travel in darkness. Taking initiative for the rest of the group as she began to examine their surroundings and try to find a place for them to hold-up. Her eyes scanning everywhere, and hunkering low to the ground for anything. Trying to think of what Nathan would do in a scenario like this.

There didn't seem to be any populated areas nearby, or not even any unpopulated, abandoned areas, either. No rundown shacks or trailer parks for them to take shelter in.

Thankfully, between the base of a nearby mountain and a field of dirt, shrubs, and trees, there was a rather large rock that had a little alcove in its foundations. Large enough for all of them to hide under and hidden enough from this new world. Good enough for them to take a breather, maybe even hunker down for the night. Wasn't a complete hole in the ground but it was better than nothing.

"Okay, everyone, let's all take a well-needed breather in that little cave down there," she pointed a metal finger to the large rock. "And then we'll figure what the hell we need to do next. Sound good?"

"Anything to stay inside this armor… Oh, man!" Parmley happily agreed, bathing in the chill atmosphere of his armor.

"Just don't soil the suit too much. Those filtration systems can be a nightmare to clean."

With no protest from the rest of the group, they all descended the mountain and reached the boulder. Taking shelter in the little crevice it created, away from the sun and with enough room for them to stretch their legs. They set their packs and equipment down, some of their weapons, too. The dogs panted loudly and profusely but had the good fortune of finally resting their haunches as they laid down. Cooper letting out a yawn as he bowed low to the ground to stretch and plopping right down next to Rex. Parmley plopping right next to them, the large T-51b armor sitting up against the rock.

"Ahhhh…" the Ranger let out, no longer on the verge of passing out from exhaustion… Yet.

However, as they relaxed and rested on their laurels, Boone put down his pack but still held onto his rifle. Cranking the bolt to check if there was a round in the chamber.

"I'm going to scout ahead and see if there's anything out. Maybe get a sense of direction, too," the 1st Reconnaissance Sniper stated, already walking away from their site. "I'll come back if I need to."

"Be safe," Veronica wished, watching him leave the shade and go around the rock.

However, when he left, she frowned more and began to wonder where exactly they were. The terrain and the climate were on-par with the Mojave, and the fact that the people they were fighting spoke English only furthered the mystery. Hoping they weren't just teleported 100-miles and found another group of shut-ins with advanced tech. Yet, the tech wasn't like anything she's seen, and the words from the two they questioned made it sound like they were very far from home.

'Who the hell is Overwatch?' she thought, wondering the significance behind that name and how Nathan was connected to it. Certainly, no one she's ever heard of.

A bit desperate, she brought her head up to her helmet and began fiddling with the controls on the side. Her helmet's HUD becoming obscured as the internal computer's menu system filled her vision. Quickly switching to the "World Map" section of her armor's navigation systems and waiting for a map to show up and give her some directions. She was then deflated to see the words "Establishing Connection" with an ellipsis in her vision.

"Well, that's not good," the ex-Scribe commented, certain that wasn't supposed to happen.

Pacing around and waiting for the screen to change to at least give them something, she let out a frustrated groan after a few more moments of no-response. Then, the back of her Advanced Power Armor opened, letting her climb out. Taking off the jumpsuit hood and letting her black hair loose, a sweat-drenched rat's nest.

"You alright?" Parmley asked.

"I'll be fine," she wished, fixing her hair.

Without a map to give them directions and without any directions to find Nathan, she thought it might be best to set-up a campfire. Good thing, too, as the sun was beginning to set. The orange colored sky becoming bluer by the minute.

Taking initiative once more, Veronica stepped away from her Power Armor and retrieved a Broad Machete from the packs. Armed with her tools and her wit, she spent the next half-hour venturing out from the alcove and gathering any usable firewood she could find. Declining any help or assistance from Parmley when he offered, making sure not to stray too far and to be quick. Not lingering out of cover longer than needed. Taking any loose branches, pieces of dead wood, and even picking some shrubs for their dry leaves. Some of the plant life reminding her of the ones from the Mojave, especially the poor excuses for trees, but she didn't feel comfortable drawing conclusions. Nonetheless, she put some of the knowledge her Tribal friend taught her to good use. The dimming sun making the air bearable to walk in before it became frigid.

Thankfully, all was well when it had become dark and she was able to start a campfire in their shelter without the use of any lasers, this time. Lighting some balled up dry grass and setting it aflame under a pyramid of propped up wood. Having her face near the base as she gently blew air into the nascent fire, making it brighter with every breath. The small tinder becoming a proper flame. The smoke hitting the rocky roof before rising out into the sky. The nook under the boulder oddly feeling cozy with the fire.

"Nice one," Parmley complimented, still in T-51b as he watched her.

"Thanks. I've learned from the best," Veronica smiled.

"Speaking of the best… What's our plan, now?" the Ranger earnestly asked as he stood up and got out of the power armor, clambering down to join her at the campfire.

"Other than staying away from the people we just nuked and are most certainly out for our blood this instant…? I wish I knew."

The only thing Veronica could do at this point was to be honest with herself.

"There's also the fact that we're in a desert that's familiar and alien at the same time, but I'm at a complete loss of direction and where we even are. Good thing we got a caravan's worth of supplies and two power armor suits. Might increase our odds of survival from depressingly low to endearingly low. And that's  _if_  we know where Nathan is."

Parmley could see her face becoming sullen and blankly stare at the fire she made, the flame from it reflecting off her features.

"We can still try, but a map wouldn't be a bad start."

"You're not giving up now, are you?" he asked, obviously worried. "We only just got here."

"I know, it's just that…" the arguably smartest member of the group had difficulty trying to convey what she wanted. Her brain still feeling tired and fatigued from the teleport. "I'm not sure where to start. It's always been like that. For a good chunk of my life, even when I was still with the Brotherhood, I wasn't sure where I needed to be or wanted to go. Until…  _He_  showed up at the 188."

"Nathan?"

"Yeah. He helped give me a sense of direction. Hell, he was the one who tracked me down and convinced me to join the Followers, again."

"Tracked you down?"

"I… More or less became a hermit when I left the Brotherhood. It wasn't a very heartwarming 'farewell party', either. I then parted ways with Nathan when I thought it would be best for everyone if I just stayed by myself from then on… But you know how 'Courier Six' is. When he wants something, he gets it."

Although she frowned when she recounted those memories of her self-exile and the reasons for doing so, she smiled upon remembering what he did for her after. Especially since it was more than she had ever asked for or wanted.

"Wish I was more like him, to be honest," she admitted, her smile faltering, again. "If I was, I'm sure we would've found him yesterday."

Parmley sat on the other side of the fire, across from her. Listening to what she said. To how she fondly remembered Courier Six and what he did for a friend. The Ranger began thinking about the first time he 'met' the Courier, trying to think of what he remembered most about him. What they could learn for their mission.

"Well, if you're so focused on finding him, why not just ask around?" Parmley meekly asked.

Veronica's smile disappeared as she looked at him, her eyes seemingly free of fatigue, now.

"What?" she squinted.

"Now, hold on. Just hear me out!" he held his hands up. "When Nathan first came to the town I was working in, one of the first things I saw him do was just… Talk to people," he recounted, almost sounding like he was in disbelief. "And I don't mean important people like the sheriff or the mayor. He just went up and talked to anyone and everyone. The workers, the guards, and even the town hobo. He just talked to people. I don't know why, but it seemed to be what he did. Things got a lot better after he came. Afterwards, I would occasionally see him around Station Charlie near Novac and sometimes head inside and talk to the Rangers. I even spoke with him a couple of times when he did, still remembers me from Caruthers. Surprised he did."

The Ranger cracked a smile of his own when he recounted his memories of the Courier, though, not nearly as plentiful as hers.

"Now, I ain't saying we should go off and starting ringin' everyone's ears out looking for him," he advised. "Just a…  _Consideration_  is what you might say."

"I guess we can if we ever find anyone. I remember that about him, too," she replied, hugging her legs to her chest. "So, what drives you? Just wanting to repay him?"

"That, and Ranger loyalty, I guess. Rangers always counted on him."

Veronica and Parmley smiled at each other, before directing their gazes to the campfire they shared. The night had grown to be not too terribly cold and there was enough space for all of them to share the warmth. They wanted to relish in the heat of the fire for a little longer until one of their stomachs groaned.

"Oops, excuse me," Veronica brought a hand over her stomach before standing up. "Good thing we packed food. Didn't need to learn that essential tip from him."

She went over to the bags to grab herself a Caravan Lunch but paused for a moment when she heard movement to their right and saw Boone walk into the light of the fire. In the dim light, she saw an expression on his face that told her there was something wrong.

"Guys, you need to come see this," the Sniper urged.

"What?"

"There's a car not too far from here. People, too."

"Trouble?!"

"No. I don't think, so, at least. But you need to see this for yourself, come on!"

Boone turned on his heels and ran back into the open, gesturing for Parmley and Veronica to follow. They apprehensively exchanged glances for a moment and followed him.

Boone brought them around 50 or so yards out from their shelter and took cover behind some rocks. Directing them to the Southwest, they spotted with their own eyes what appeared to be lights in the distance. At around more than a half-a-mile from where they were. There were a set of big lights that belonged to a car, but there were several other lights that seemed to belong to smaller vehicles.

"Here," Boone handed Veronica a pair of binoculars, resting his rifle against the rock.

She took it, and once she got more comfortable, put her face up to the eyepieces. Through the binoculars, she could more clearly see the car – specifically a pickup truck – with its headlights on a dark road. The more she peered through the darkness, she eventually spotted the other sources of light around the truck; There were three "motorcycles" that were parked around the truck, but like the cars they encountered, these bikes were absent of wheels and floated. However, she saw four men standing outside of the truck. Three of them wore cowboy hats, but the fourth wore what looked like a jumpsuit, the types mechanics would wear. The man in the jumpsuit stayed close to the driver's side door and acting as if trying to protect something inside. What also stuck out to her was that the men in hats – who she assumed owned the bikes – had guns. One of them carrying what seemed to be a rifle.

Even in the dark, she could tell the bikers meant trouble. Seeing how uncomfortably close they got to the man, who proceeded to cover more of the driver's side door. Then, Veronica gasped when she saw a set of small arms reach from the driver's side window and grab the man. Now seeing there was a child in the truck with him.

"Boone, we have to help them!" she said to him, almost yelling.

"Hmm…" the Sniper peered through his scope, examining the situation. "I can take them out at this range, but it might be a bit risky with them nearby. They might hurt them if I open fire, too. Gotta be careful with this."

"Wait, just hold on a second, we don't even know who those guys are!" Parmley interjected. "We could be walking into something without the full picture. We can't just start shooting people."

"You're… Right," Veronica agreed. "We shouldn't get too ahead of ourselves, but we can't leave 'em."

"You guys have any ideas, then?" Boone asked, his sights still trained on the truck.

Veronica addressed Parmley for a moment, looking back at the truck and seeing the man and child being harassed. The longer they idly sat there and watched, the more likely something bad was going to happen. She began thinking of what Nathan might do to mend this scenario. To prevent as many casualties as possible. She could try being a diplomat and talk to them, but diplomats usually don't appear out of nowhere on the desert roadside. She might need to be a bit assertive with this lot if they didn't want to automatically resort to killing them. Decisions need to be made.

"How many Stealth Boys do we have?" she asked, a plan quickly forming in her head.

* * *

Veronica sneaked her way across the stretch of desert between them and the road where the truck was. Crouching low to the ground and moving slow enough to not kick up dirt or make too much noise. Her eyes wary of her surroundings, but keeping them largely focused on the road ahead, where all the people were.

As she inched closer and closer to the road, she could make out more details. Able to see the color of the bikes, the clothing that they wore, and the weapons they were brandishing. However, one detail she noticed about the truck was how it didn't float like the bikes surrounding it. It had wheels, instantly more recognizable to her.

As she got closer, she could hear them more clearly, too. Hearing that they were speaking in English, as well. The bikers in hats speaking with a drawl not too different from some Mojave locals back home. Veronica tried to not get distracted, again. There will be time to ponder the coincidences later. Trying to discern what they were saying as she got closer to them.

"Listen, old man," the one standing closest to the driver spoke, carrying an air of authority with him as he stood tall and with his thumbs in his pockets. Wearing a dark leather jacket with dark jeans, a belt-bandolier around his hip. On the back of the jacket, she could faintly see an emblem consisting of a skull with wings, and chains and a padlock where the lower jaw should be. The words "Deadlock Rebels" situated above and below the skull. The other two bikers' outfits like his.

"We always ask nicely," he went on, taking a couple steps toward him. "We do, but every time we pull you over and ask that you pay the toll, you raise hell. It doesn't have to be that way every time, but you insist on raising hell every. Single. Damn. Time! Hell, we gotta start gettin' rough with you to drive the point home. Just pay the toll, and we'll send you on your way."

"Toll? For what?" the old man spat out with disdain, his face becoming more wrinkled as he narrowed his eyes at them. Not standing down in the slightest. "Filling in the potholes? You fucks ain't from county. I've paid my taxes. Fuck off."

"Old man, no one around here uses these roads anymore except you and your old beater."

"She's worth more than you'll ever make!"

"Don't you think your grandson would have more fun riding in a-"

"Don't you say shit about him!"

The old man sneered and blocked more of the window with his body, obscuring their view of the child from the driver's side. Veronica nearly stopping from the sudden outburst, but she pressed on. When she got in range of the lights, she brought her hand to her wrist and activated the Stealth Boy strapped to it. Becoming shrouded in a field of stealth radiation.

'I hope Craig's got me covered,' she silently hoped, as she now got close to the concrete of this old road. Now inching further at a snail's pace to not alert any of them.

"Old man…" the tall one said lowly, aggravated.

"What is it with young dipshits like you who can't leave people alone, especially in bumfuck places like this? Do you really think you'll ever get anything worthwhile here? Do you guys not have anything better to do with your time? Not too busy riding those poor excuses for motorcycles around the desert? You're only impressing the rocks. Still have to wear jeans even if those things don't have exhaust pipes. Fucking pussies."

The rant made Veronica more worried as she saw the bikers get more visibly agitated. Certain that she would have to spring to action soon if the old man's temper only got worse.

"We're the only people who give a damn about this place, anymore. We bring our money and our business," the lead biker defended themselves.

"Yeah, cause you bleed us dry. Bringing in your shady business we want no part of."

"Without that, you're town ain't worth dogshit. Barely even on the holomaps, anymore. Ain't nothing to die over-"

He recoiled and nearly lost his hat when the old man threw out a jab and hit him directly in the face. The other two instantly getting their guns up as they walked around the truck and got closer to the old man. Veronica witnessed the whole thing and knew she had to think fast. Thankfully, she spotted the biker coming around the front of the trunk who had his back turned to her. Quietly springing to her feet.

Meanwhile, the one who got punched looked at the old man with fury in his eyes and reached for his belt.

"You son of a-!"

"Hey!"

He spun around, hand around the grip of his still-holstered gun and saw a woman literally appear out of thin air. Holding one of his men hostage under an iron grip as she wielded a super-heated pneumatic gauntlet in the other. The hydraulic jack pointed at his head.

"What the fuck? Where the hell did you come from?!" he exclaimed.

"Keep that gun holstered and I won't turn your friend's brains into mush!" Veronica threatened, tightening her grip on the man. 'So much for diplomacy…' she lamented to herself.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but you got some nerve pulling off what you're doing now!"

"Not like there was a welcome mat laid out for me… Look! If you just leave the old man and the kid alone and get out of here, you and your buddies can go back home on your bikes in one piece."

"Like hell, we'd do that! Do you know who you're fucking with?! I might as well send one between your eyes!"

Veronica wasn't threatened in the slightest, but the man she held hostage grimaced in fear.

"No, no, no, please don't!" he garbled out, feeling his throat get constricted. "You're a bad shot and this –  _urgh !_ – B-bitch is fuckin' strong!"

"Thank you!" Veronica smiled at him for a second. "We really don't want to kill you. Especially in front of them. Please, everyone can go away with their skins still on their backs after this."

"Worried about them, huh?" the lead snarled, stepping back as he fiddled with his holster. "Your loss!"

He pulled the long barrel of an ornate revolver out of his holster and swung it to point at them. But before he could even pull back the hammer, there was a crack in the distance and the revolver was shot out of his hand. The man yelping and clutching his hand. The last biker with a gun panicking and looking around, unsure where that shot even came from.

"The fuck are you doing?!" his wounded comrade yelled. "Shoot them!"

His friend about to do as he was told but was distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps and looked to see two creatures emerging from the desert and gaining for him. He lifted his rifle to take a shot at them but one of them barked a soundwave at him and knocked him to the ground. Then, Cooper ran over and sank his teeth into his arm, thrashing him around and making him scream. Rex providing back-up and growling at the man, guarding over the rifle he dropped.

Their leader looked around, the smugness and confidence wiped away in only a matter of seconds. Spinning around and stopping to look at Veronica.

"How…?!"

"Can't say I didn't try to warn you," Veronica said. "You can still go if you want. Unless you want the hat to be blown off your head."

He sneered at her, clutching his bleeding hand as he looked around at the mess. Knowing there were unseen assailants that could literally shoot the guns out of his hands. The Deadlock rider took one more glance at the old man, who still stood by his truck and glared. Seemingly unfazed by what just transpired.

"Fuck this! You ain't worth the trouble, old man," he spat out, then regarding Veronica. "Fine, we'll leave. But this ain't the last you'll be hearing from me!"

"Can't say I never heard that before," the companion rolled her eyes and let go of the biker, kicking him towards his friends. "Thanks for cooperating!"

The gang members all grumbled and stumbled to their bikes, some of them having a more difficult time operating them due to the injuries they sustained. Getting back on and starting them up, they all spun them around to the north, in the opposite direction the truck was facing. As the undersides of their motorcycles began to glow blue, the leader looked over his shoulder and threw his middle-finger up at them. Another crack from the desert, a bullet whizzed by his head and took the hat off, making him recoil in shock before twisting the throttle and speeding off into the road. His friends followed, and they watched their lights become fainter and fainter until the road became dark, again. The old man and child safe, now.

"Glad that's done with," Veronica expressed relief, walking over to the old man. "Sorry, about that. We just- Woah!"

She jumped back and held her hands up as the old man she rescued was now pointing a black handgun at her from nowhere. Rex and Cooper immediately rushed to Veronica's aide, but she called out to calm them down. Anxiously glancing between the pistol and the old man's glaring eyes.

"C-calm down, old timer. We just wanted to help. That's all!"

"Who's this 'we'? Who the fuck are you?!" the old man with a gun interrogated.

"Someone who just helped you get out of a sticky situation! A little 'thank you' would've sufficed."

"I could've handled that situation just fine, on my own."

However, as they "conversed", they heard a car door open and close on the other side of the truck. Then, kicking up dust, the child in the cabin ran around the front of the car to where they were. Veronica glancing at him, seeing him wear a pair of overalls over a t-shirt. He had ashy brown air and freckles over his slightly-tanned face. Couldn't have been older than ten.

"Joseph, get back inside!" the old man commanded.

"Grandpa, she saved us!" the boy exclaimed, in a voice that sounded more Californian than Mojave.

"Just get back inside, I'll deal with this."

"Jennette said we should always be thankful to those who help us. You're not being very thankful!"

"Joseph, she's a stranger who literally appeared out of thin air."

"She still helped us! And her friends, too. How do you know they're going to hurt us when they saved us?"

The Grandpa shifted his eyes to his grandson, then back at Veronica with the sights of his pistol still trained on her. Never relinquishing that suspicious glare.

"Why the hell are you out in the middle of nowhere, in the desert?" he questioned, his gun steady.

"We're… Lost, to put it bluntly. Embarrassing, I know," she truthfully answered. "We're also looking for something. Er, someone. We could use some help pointing us in the right direction. And we helped you so… I guess that means you owe us?"

Veronica meekly smiled after she said that last bit, trying to come off as friendly with her hands up.

"How'd you turn invisible? Are you with Overwatch?" the kid then asked.

"Joseph!" the old man was quick to shut that down. "So, you just want some help, huh? Need someone to point you in the direction of your friend?"

"That's… Really all we want," she earnestly answered, slowly lowering her hands after she shrugged. "Willing to help if you need more convincing."

The old man narrowed his eyes at her, that pistol rock solid in his wrinkled hands. A low, raspy hum echoed from his throat as he thought about what just happened in the past couple of minutes. Who this woman and her dogs were. If she and her friends wanted to take him out, they probably would've done so after they took care of the bikers. He looked at his grandson who looked back at him.

"If all you want is just help, fine," the old man relented, lowering his handgun shoving it into a back pouch. "But not here. Not in the dark. Back home is a better place to chat… How many are there of you?"

"Five. The other two are out there," the ex-Scribe answered, looking to the side of the road waving her arm to beckon them over.

For a while, after she did that, nothing really seemed to happen. The old man and his grandson just looking out into the dark. However, they began to see the faint outlines of two men walking up to the road. One of them larger and more imposing than they expected, his footsteps thumping against the dirt. The old man's eyes widened a little in surprise as he reached over and guided Joseph behind him, but the boy was just in awe at the sight of T-51b that lumbered up to them. The Tesla Coils glowing in the night. The two barely noticing the man in the red beret next to him.

"Howdy, sir," Parmley greeted them, before addressing Veronica. "You alright?"

"Better, now that we have some help," she smiled.

"You guys  _are_  Overwatch-!"

"Joseph!"

All of them present, the old man inspected each of them. His scowl never breaking or weakening. Scrutinizing and inspecting them; their clothes, their weapons, their faces, their stance. Glancing towards the dogs and watching them sit there with their tongues out. His grandson petting the one that wasn't comprised mostly of metal. Silently making judgments but his eyes weren't subtle.

"The world could always use more freaks…" he muttered. "I can give all of you a ride back home if you ain't got any transportation yourselves. But that might take a while. Damn thing shorted out on me, again. The reason I was stranded out here in the first place."

"Engine troubles, huh? I could help out with that," Veronica offered.

"You know old cars?" he asked, sounding skeptical.

"I've tinkered with a lot of old car parts. Learned to salvage what's good and working. Make something useful with what I haul."

The Grandpa furrowed his brow at the younger woman, not sensing a fault in her demeanor as she told him that.

"She's a 2016 classic. So, don't break her," he requested. "I'll pop the hood for you."

"I got it!" his grandson was already ahead, opening the door and climbing into the driver's seat.

"Joseph!" he yelled, but the hood of the truck already popped up before he could do anything.

"Come on, grandpa, the sooner we get out here the better!"

Even his old age couldn't deny that, and it would've been more trouble getting him out of the seat that it was worth. Getting too old to deal with that.

"Fine, but don't touch anything else until I tell you. And don't mess with the wheel!" the Grandpa ordered, before gesturing for her to go.

Veronica gratefully smiled and walked over to the front of the truck. Lifting the hood up and looking at the engine for herself. Her imagination did run a bit wild about what the machine would look like under the hood. When the ex-Scribe checked, she saw machining and wiring that looked almost identical to the old combustion engines she scrapped. The ones without the fancy nuclear power in them.

"Hmm… I could make this work."

Meanwhile, the old man just stood by the driver's seat and watched Veronica get to work on his engine. Cautious, but amused that she seemed to be working on it with her bare hands. Frowning as he shook his head. Preparing to rest for a bit as he pulled out the slick black length of his electric cigar, flipping it on as he began sucking in the vapor. Expecting them to be here for a while.

"Got it!" he suddenly heard her say, making him look up and watch her close the hood and walk over to them. "You can try starting it up now."

The old man was too busy squinting at her to do anything, but his grandson took the initiative as the truck's engine began to sputter. After a few more turns, the old truck roared to life and began purring like an old cat - loud and guttural, but still alive. Veronica walking up to him with a proud smirk.

After that initial test, Joseph turned the engine off and hopped out with a big grin across his face.

"I've never seen someone do that so fast!" the young boy exclaimed.

"I aim to please," Veronica kept smirking.

The old man regarded her and his truck, expelling the cloud of vapor he held in his mouth.

"The three of you can ride in the backseat, but your weapons and armor go in the back," he said, turning around to the bed of his pickup. Moving his belongings and some junk around to clear up space. "Oh, and your dogs, too. I don't want the cyberhound to leak oil all over the leather."

The next few minutes were then spent gathering up all their belongings and loading them onto the back of the pickup, the two sets of armor and an inordinate amount of supplies making the old truck sink a good chunk. Still enough space for the two canines to hop in, Rex doing it with little hesitation while Cooper was a bit wary of climbing on. Able to do so after Veronica comforted him some more. After they loaded everything in, the old man threw a tarp over the armor and gear. Fastening it down with straps before he went to the driver's seat.

With everything squared away, the three human tourists were about to pile into the back seat, but before Veronica could get her foot in, Boone grabbed her shoulder.

"Veronica, can we trust this guy?" he quietly asked, glancing towards the old man getting into his seat. "He literally pointed a gun at you."

"He's being cautious. Can't blame him for that after what we witnessed. Besides, you got anywhere else to go?" she asked a question of her own, the two regarding each other until Boone let go. "Come on, let's at least give him a chance."

Afterward they all, somewhat awkwardly, climbed in and sat next to each other. Veronica and Parmley taking window seats while Boone was forced into the middle. The Waster all looking around at the car's interior. Feeling the leather they sat on and looking at the felt upholstery on the roof. The inside smelling of oil, metal, and pine. Things were tight, but they all managed while the old man and his grandson occupied the front seats. The driver looked back and frowned.

"Put your seatbelts on," he grumbled as he turned the keys in the ignition and made the truck rev to life, again.

However, the Wasters didn't have enough time to figure out the seatbelts before the old man hit the gas and began speeding away on the old road. The old truck still proving she was fast.

They never were in cars much given that most of them were rust buckets not worth the time to scrap, but there was something about riding in one through the desert that kept Veronica's eyes glued to the window, after adjusting to the sudden rise in speed. Even if it was dark out, not long into the trip she found herself staring outside and watching a hundred things drift by in a few seconds. Saddened that this used to be a common mode of transportation back home. Boone and Parmley, more "experienced" with cars given their NCR military status, could hardly consider those times joyrides. Never really given an opportunity to just look out the window in an airconditioned cabin. One so clean, too. In the bed, Rex was doing fine but Cooper was overwhelmed by all the new smells passing by.

Veronica looked up and was greeted by a sky full of stars, without any city lights to blot them out. They weren't a rarity back home, but even at this speed, the sky was fixed in place as the stars and moon seemingly followed them. However, she noticed something odd about the moon she was staring at…

Her train of thought was disturbed when the truck suddenly rocked and a loud thud could be heard as they passed over a barren stretch of road. All the Wastelanders shook by the sudden interruption. Cooper thrown around in the bed.

"Sorry," the old man unconvincingly apologized. "People barely use these roads other than damn highwaymen, so they barely maintain them. I ain't got grav-wheels, but suspensions doing its best."

"It's fine," Veronica responded, readjusting herself in her seat. "So… Where're we heading?"

"Home."

"Ah… So, is it going to take long to get there or…?"

"A couple hours. The route I usually take had these damn military checkpoints all over, for some reason. So, we're taking the long way around."

"Oh… I see. What are you doing all the way out here, then?"

The old man glanced into the rearview mirror to look at her before reverting attention to the road. When his answer took too long, his grandson spoke up for him.

"Me and my grandpa are hauling scrap we find," Joseph was more than elated to share, looking back at her from his seat. "We go to these old abandoned places out in the desert to find anything worth selling. Sometimes there's good money in it."

"A bit of prospecting, huh?"

"'Prospecting'? Eh, I guess. But instead of gold and silver, we get old junk no one wants anymore. But, sometimes the sheriff gets a bit mad at us for 'pilfering'. Army people, too."

"Air Force, Joseph," the old man corrected. "Sometimes the pricier things involve risk, but it's a livin'. Good enough for him and me."

Veronica nodded, looking out her window again and trying to spot out more in the distance. Nothing but the moon's light accompanying them on this old road. She spotted the outline of what seemed to be mountains in the distance, but she couldn't make out more than that.

"So, what's your name, old man?" she then asked, looking straight ahead, again.

He looked into his rearview mirror, for the second time.

"Clark," he answered. "But people call me 'Senior'. You don't have to ask why."

"I'm Veronica," the woman with the pneumatic gauntlet introduced herself. "That's Boone, that's Parmley, and Rex and Cooper in the back. Rex is the one with the brain dome."

"I'm Joseph!" the boy exclaimed, even though they already heard several times. "I like your brain-dog! Where are all of you from?"

'From out of this world,' is what she would've said if she had no inhibitions, but she had to settle for a subtler and more boring answer. "It's… A long story. We've been through a lot recently and thinking about it makes me tired. I can give you an answer when we get to your home."

"Why? Are you with Overwatch? That's why you have all that crazy and weird tech, right? Wait, are you on a mission?!"

Despite it probably being past his bedtime, the young boy began to launch a tirade of questions directed at the woman he just met. Making the cabin noisy when he spoke. Veronica was a bit overwhelmed and obviously couldn't answer truthfully.

"Joseph!" Senior quickly spoke up, saving her from an assault of questions. "Don't pester her. We still got a long way to go. I prefer we learn everything when we're back home and with some grub. Jennette's probably worried about us."

The little boy huffed and slumped into his chair, bringing up a glowing tablet and playing with it. "Fine…"

Veronica had so many questions, from where exactly they were going to where Joseph's parents were to what that thing he's holding is. The most important question still racking her mind: Where the hell is Nathan?

However, as they flew across the old road and the moon hung high in the sky, she felt the exhaustion of today finally get to her when she yawned. She looked over at her friends to see they had already passed out, slumped against the leather seats and the car window. Seeing that only made her sleepier, and she took only one more glance at the dark desert outside before yawning again and resting her head against the leather.


	52. Getting Familial

Nathan's Room, Watchpoint: Gibraltar

2076

The large double-barreled shotgun closed with a meaty, metal sound when Nathan swung the weapon upwards and closed the action. Examining the Talon weapon he snagged for himself, the abnormally large shotgun able to fit in his large hands. Swiping his thumb over a lever and breaking the action open, again, the scent of gun oil and lubricant wafted up to his nose as he stared down the two chambers for the gun. However, he didn't see a light where the end of the muzzle should be but a series of conductors and wiring where the "shells" connect upon loading. The double-barreled actually an energy weapon, and the shells more like batteries. Wasn't the best-designed weapon he's come across as there were certainly better, less obsolete shotgun variants out there to modernize; Wondering why it was a  _double-barrel_ of all things they decided to use. Although given a few modifications, maybe sawing off a pound or two, he could see some potential in it becoming a viable addition to his arsenal. Especially something to replace his Ballistic Fist, which laid broken and mangled on his desk to the side. Beyond repair, unfortunately.

'Still better than being outside,' he thought, more content staying here and thinking about these things. Not too bothered to go anywhere.

As he wondered what would be needed to convert this weapon for his Wastelander needs, there was a knock on his door. His forehead wrinkled as he looked at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, and he couldn't think why anyone would if he was. There were more knocks on his door, but he just stared at it and sat there as he cradled the shotgun in his hands. Looking down at its freshly cleaned and oiled parts, all the energy residue and discharge already wiped away. All his other guns were clean, as well.

Flicking his wrist, the two barrels swung up and slammed into the stock, locking it. He propped the weapon against the side of his desk as he got up. Opening the door, the first thing he saw was an auburn ponytail facing his direction before the one knocking spun around. Meeting him at eye-level, give or take a few inches.

"Nathan!" Brigitte said, smiling to greet him. " _Hej!_ "

"Brigitte?" Nathan was surprised to see her at his door. "Uh… Hey."

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

"No, not really," he replied as he glanced back at the shotgun. "Why're you here?"

"I just came to ask if I could borrow Bastion for a bit?" she answered.

"May I ask what for?"

"Well, I've noticed his armor seems to be a bit degraded and I've come up with some new armor schematics that I'm sure could work well for him. Give him some good defenses, just in case."

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Could help the big bot in case something did happen, even though he wasn't the most fragile. Also, since he was lacking in offensive capabilities. Although, despite it being a good idea, Nathan was still left a little confused by her presence here.

"That doesn't sound half-bad but… Why are you asking me?" he asked.

"Oh…? Well, it would make sense to ask you, first, wouldn't it? You are kind of Bastion's  _caretaker_ ," she explained.

That title almost threw Nathan for a loop, making him lean against the doorway as he thought over what she just said. Trying to think if he really was Bastion's "caretaker" in any sense he could formulate.

"I think Dr. Zhou would more fit that description than I would," he states.

"Why not?"

"I dunno. He's with her more often than not, even when I'm around. Being her lab assistant and all. Good for him, but he's always not here. As you can clearly see."

"Ah, I guess I'll go look for Mei and ask if he's available. Why don't you come along, though? I could use someone to help translate what Bastion says. You two can catch up while I work on him."

Nathan looked at her funny when she offered that, seeing her willingly offer him tag along on a chore. Wondering why she continues doing that. Always surprised by her friendliness and how far it seems to persist. Surprised even more given who her father was. Maybe he was just overthinking it, again.

Alas, he thinks he would be more comfortable in his hole.

"I think I'm good," he says, but immediately thinks over what he meant the second after. "How are you holding up, by the way? Not hurting too bad?" Nathan then asked.

"I'm fine, nothing to worry about," Brigitte said, bringing a hand to her shoulder with the black gear tattoo and rubbing it gently as some of her skin was redder in complexion. "Reinhardt said I should cherish these bruises. Too bad I can't cherish anything besides how sore everything is. Not even going overtime at the gym hurts this much. But as they used to say, 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.'"

"Sorry, but that's usually bullshit most of the time, no matter what Wilhelm says. But you're still alive and kickin'. That's good to hear."

"Heh, thanks. I appreciate that. I'll go find Bastion and tell Reinhardt what you think of his philosophy. See you around!"

Nathan nodded, and Brigitte walked away down the hall. His eyes followed her for a moment until he stepped back inside to close the door. However, he stopped a quarter of the way from closing it and peered his head back into the hallway and spotted Brigitte still in view from his room. Seeing her on her way to do something, to make herself useful. He brought his head back in to take another look at his largely barren room, his eyes shifting to the shotgun that was propped up against his desk. Recalling how he would need to modify it for his needs and purposes. Maybe Brigitte could help him with that after he helps her.

Stepping through his door and closing it behind him, he begins jogging up to the Mechanic.

"Hey, Brigitte, wait up!"

* * *

The peerless Head-Engineer of Overwatch waddled through the base on his way to the workshop, having done his daily chores of maintenance around the Watchpoint. Hoisting a box of tools in one arm and a mechanical claw as the other arm. Surprisingly, the day ran rather smoothly when he went about his daily routine, well, as smoothly as an engineer could hope to maintain this place. Torbjörn thought he might have some free time for his own intellectual – and mechanical - pursuits before he turned a corner into the workshop and instantly spotted Bastion. The large omnic sitting pretty in the middle of the floor while a figure clad in safety equipment welded pieces of armor plating to the machine with a variety of tools. His eye shifting between the armor and the welder's mask, who was tall enough to be hunched over the omnic's square shoulder.

At a distance, the armor plating didn't look too bad, the Engineer finding himself silently intrigued as he walked into the workshop. Maybe it was about time someone got to upgrading that old robot, so it could be more useful around here. He sure as hell wasn't going to do it, nor had any compunction to.

Bastion acknowledged Torbjörn's presence when he got closer.

"Brin, if you're going to give your buddy an upgrade, make sure to clean up after you're done," the Head-Engineer made sure to remind him. "And put the tools back, too! I just spent an afternoon rearranging everything because someone decided to-"

"Hmm?" the welder stopped welding, pulling her earbuds out and flipping the mask up to reveal it was Brigitte grafting armor plates to Bastion. "Oh. Hey,  _Pappa_!"

"Brigitte!" her father exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving Bastion an upgrade. Don't you think he's overdue for a hardware update?"

"Well, I can clearly see that, but why?"

"Why not? Things have been becoming hectic for the past couple of weeks. It would only make sense to make sure all of us are prepared. Even Bastion."

She smiled and patted the machine on the metal shoulder, making him rotate to her and beep. However, Torbjörn frowned upon seeing his daughter go out of her way to do such things. Taking the equipment and resources and using them to make something of her own. Taking the initiative and not just bolstering their defenses but creating defenses. Giving an old model of robot some shiny new armor.

'Explains all those long nights in the workshop…' her father surmised. "Let me guess, did Brin bring forth the idea of armoring up the E54 to you, first? Ask you to do him one favor while he'll return it one day?"

"The opposite, actually," Nathan explained for her as he appeared at the doorway, a long bag of equipment and a cooler dangling from his left hand while hoisting a storage crate larger than the dwarf over his right shoulder. He readjusted his grip over the load and walked past Torbjörn to a corner of the room, close to Brigitte. "Your daughter came to me to ask if she could upgrade Bastion. Afterward, we went to Dr. Zhou to get Bastion. Then we came here."

He punctuated his response by setting down the things he carried, resulting in a hearty thud. After, he flipped the cooler open to let chilled air spill out as he reached in and retrieved two ice-cold bottles of "Nano Cola". He gave one to Brigitte while taking one for himself.

"Thanks," she said, turning the welder off and twisting the cap off the soda.

Nathan nodded before he twisted the cap off his bottle and put the tiny piece of metal into his pocket. Taking a sip afterward but frowning when the taste of the cola hit his tongue. Not quite tasting like cola, especially considering the liquid was green. He was more of a root beer fella, anyway.

'What I would give for a sip of sarsaparilla,' he lamented, scrutinizing the green bottle.

"Cree Bwee?" Bastion blurted out, looking at Nathan's pocket.

"What?" he asked.

"Cree Boo?"

The Waster looked down at his pocket and retrieved the bottlecap he just put inside a couple seconds earlier. Confused until he realized what he just did in front of them.

"Oh, right. It's a habit," the Courier explained.

"A habit? For what?" Brigitte asked.

"I'll explain, later," Nathan promised, putting the cap back into his pocket. "Right now, Bastion's got a makeover we gotta give him."

Suddenly, there was a burst of laughter at his feet and he craned his neck downwards to see Brigitte's father having a hearty, overbearing guffaw for someone his size. Bastion also craned his neck down at him, wondering what all that was about.

"What is it?" Nathan asked, his mouth curled into a slight snarl as he narrowed his eyes at Torbjörn. Brigitte noticing his expression and wondering if she had to intervene so soon.

The Swedish Dwarf kept laughing, a hand over his belly until he slapped his knee.

"You guys won't so much as give the robot a pedicure with what you're doing!" the Head-Engineer exclaimed, walking forward and brushing past Nathan's long legs.

"What?"

"What I'm saying is that your technique is sloppy, and you won't get much done improving anything with what you're currently doing," he elaborated, going to a corner of the room and retrieving a step ladder, then going over to where Brigitte stood beside Bastion and placing it there. After he climbed and reached the topmost step, which brought him about eye-level with the shoulder, he held out his right hand to his daughter. "Welding tool, please."

Brigitte rolled her eyes and let out a groan. Taking a quick swig from her cola.

"I knew what I was doing, you know," she said, before lazily grabbing the welding tool and handing it to her father. "Had the blueprints, processes, and steps laid out and everything. Don't mess anything up."

"I know you would, but someone's still got to teach you kids how it's done," her father responded, flipping his welding mask over his face.

" _Kids_?" Nathan questioned the use of that word in the plural sense.

"Yes, and would you kindly give me a light?"

Brigitte and Nathan exchanged glances with each other, the former just playfully shrugging while the latter frowned, as he always did.

Nonetheless, they began assisting the dwarf with the job. Or, he began assisting them.

The younger Lindholm silently happy that they could have a third professional opinion about her work, and Nathan was glad that he didn't have to haul all the heavy stuff by himself anymore. The three get to work on upgrading Bastion, things still moving like clockwork. Brigitte and Torbjörn largely discussing the armoring process amongst themselves, while Nathan watched and did most of the heavy lifting. Although, he did pay attention to what the Lindholms were discussing and followed along.

They spent the next hour or so grafting Brigitte's prototype armor to the old omnic. Piece after piece, plate after plate, being drilled, welded, and locked into place over strategic parts of Bastion's upper-body. Even replacing some of his original armor plating, but Brigitte assured Nathan that he would be fine. Torbjörn occasionally pausing to listen to their exchange before going back to work. Finally, with one more piece of armor latching onto the central hood of Bastion's chassis, the tools turned off. Standing back and setting her tools aside, Brigitte flipped her helmet up and looked at Bastion.

Most of the green and beige armor plates on his upper-body were replaced by pieces of an earthier-complexion of green. Aside from the paint, the armor was more angular and smooth, not as many straight edges or corners as his armor before. The armor wrapping around his frame rather than folding over it like pieces of cardboard. The most blocky and square shaped part of his upper-body was his head, unchanged from the entire process.

"Reeooo?" he inspected what was done to him.

"Alright, good so far. Come on, Bastion, let's see if you can walk around with it," Brigitte said, moving stuff aside to give him room. "Nice and easy, now."

His block head swiveled up to her for a moment before he nodded. Slowly, and with the help of his one good arm, Bastion stood himself up and towered over everyone else in the room. Swiveling his upper-body a few times, spinning it around for good measure, Bastion looked ahead and rose one foot up to take a step forward. It immediately resulted in his foot falling faster than it should've and him losing traction.

"Dweet!" he screamed as he made the room shake upon falling flat onto his square face.

Brigitte jumped, going wide-eyed the second he was on the floor and scrambling to help him up. Nathan expressed some surprise, walking over to see if the damage was bad. And Torbjörn stood on his step ladder and looked at them, crossing his arms.

"I guess it's a bit front-heavy, then," the Head-Engineer indubitably deduced.

"Clearly," his daughter glanced daggers at him, trying to help Bastion get back up. "I made the measurements. Surely, this shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Virr," Bastion detested, his head turning 180⁰ to look at her.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Just hold on a bit."

As the Lindholms started to banter with each other over the craftsmanship of their work, Nathan took a closer look at his "improvements". Despite being refined and smooth, they were still big and meaty pieces of armor. Nathan already knowing how heavy they were since he had to carry the damn things. Without a doubt, they would provide Bastion the protection he needed, but at the cost of being mobile. Too heavy, even for him.

"You should've accounted for putting  _multiple_  plates on him. That's probably what you need to look into," Torbjörn instructed, tapping his knuckle into one of the plates.

"Back to the drawing board, I guess," Brigitte responded, a bit tired but deflated.

"If weight's a problem, why not use ceramics?" Nathan suddenly blurted out, scrutinizing the armor.

Both the Lindholms snapped their eyes to him. "What?"

"The use of a ceramic composite, maybe even some ceramic and metal mixed together, could eliminate the weight problem while still providing some optimal protection."

Brigitte blinked, not expecting him to come up with that answer.

"It could even give us the chance to make the armor bigger, bulkier, and more protective, surface area-wise," Torbjörn then added, stroking his beard. "More leeway with the weight, too…"

"That's what I said," Nathan stated.

Brigitte was surprised, seeing her father ponder after being told an idea from  _someone else_. Certain he was going to find some way to disregard his suggestion, but she watched her father keep thinking. It got her thinking, too, wondering if Nathan could be free to help her with more projects sometime in the future.

"I dunno, just my two cents from my own experience," Brin said, shrugging.

"I'll look into it. Thanks for the idea," Brigitte expressed. "But now, I got something else in store for Bastion. Don't worry, you'll like it."

"…Weer?"

The next hour was then spent getting Bastion up and reversing everything they just did, giving him back his old armor for the time being. Maybe a bit quicker now that they knew which bolts and screws to twist and which plates to lock at this point, Brigitte and Nathan doing much of the work as Torbjörn stood by the side. After everything was done, Brigitte pointed to the crate one more time and asked him to retrieve one last thing. Going over to it and flipping it open to spot that one thing: an all-black, metallic arm that was longer than his leg. Ending with a right hand that complimented Bastion's left hand.

He picked it up, using both of his arms, and Bastion lit up when he saw it.

"Waaaa! Gee goo chirr veerumpoo?"

"He asks, 'Where did you find this?'" Nathan translated as he lugged the limb over.

"Found it when I was traveling with Reinhardt," Brigitte answered, walking over to him and helping carry the large arm to a set of chains and cables that hung from the ceiling, next to Bastion. "It was in good shape, too! I knew I could do something with it. Just… I didn't expect it to be this."

Lifting and setting the arm into the chains, Brigitte pulled up a holopad and began inputting controls that made the chains lift the arm over to him. After stopping a few centimeters from the exposed limb socket, Brigitte, with some help from Nathan, guided the arm into the rest of his body and resulted in a hearty  _kerchunk!_  Next, she pulled out a drill and tightened a few nuts around his shoulder, then grabbing an oil can and lubricating around the joints. Only taking a few more seconds until they were done.

They stepped back, standing in front of Bastion with his new arm. Obviously, it stood out, being entirely black and not having as much armor plating as the other arm. Looking like a noodle in comparison to the rest of his limbs. However, what counted most was that it was still functional.

"Go ahead, Bastion. Try it!"

The omnic regarded her a second time before he looked down at his new arm, humming as he did so. Then, slowly, he brought the palm of his new hand up to his face. His fingers contracting and expanding robotically, executing some more movements with it. Bending his elbow, rotating the entire arm around his socket, and twisting his wrist all the way. It worked, and Bastion couldn't be happier.

Brigitte smiled, but that quickly morphed into shock as she was scooped up into the large war-bot's arms and felt herself get crushed in a very enthusiastic embrace. The omnic booping a million expressions of gratitude to her.

"He says, 'thanks'," Nathan explained.

"Good… To… Hear!" Brigitte tried to smile but grimaced.

"Alright, Bastion, I think that's enouaaahhh!"

The tall man was also scooped up into the embrace, Bastion now having two arms. Holding both Brigitte and Nathan very close to his central chassis, their feet dangling helplessly into the air.

"Woo, wow!" Bastion elated, wanting to relish in the moment longer until he put them back on their feet. The two humans instantly catching their breaths upon their freedom.

"Oh, you have two arms, now? Congratulations…" Torbjörn muttered, shaking his head. "Now you can do  _twice_  the things!"

The omnic then rotated his upper-body to face Torbjörn, who was behind. When he saw Bastion do that and take a step forward, the indifference faded from his face. Almost scrambling off the step ladder he stood on and falling to the ground.

"Wait, what are you…?! Don't!" he tried to plead but it was too late as the metal hands scooped him up in their clutches. His face pressed up against his chassis, now.

"Weerooo!" Bastion cheered, not letting go.

"Let go of me! I did not consent to this! I designed you, I command you to stop!"

The dwarf engineer fidgeted and squirmed all he could, but the omnic wouldn't let go. This went on long enough for him to tire himself out, not shaking as violently. Defeated, Torbjörn groaned and went limp in Bastion's arms, accepting his fate like a Tiger caught in Lena's arms. Brigitte softly laughing as she took out her phone and began taking pictures. Then, showing those pictures to Nathan.

"We weren't able to get everything to work, but today wasn't a bad start!" the young Mechanic admitted, sticking to the silver-lining. "A job well-done."

After she said that, Bastion finally let go of his victim and Torbjörn fell to the floor, making some of the nearby tools shake. He slowly got to his feet, groaning all the while. Glaring daggers at the large robot when he did.

"Do that again and I'll send you to the slag heap!" he threatened, hitting him rather hard with his hammer, which didn't bother the machine at all. Then, after taking just one step, he sighed heavily and leaned onto his knees. Exhausted from the amount of affection he just received.

"And a job well-done calls for a visit to the pub," Brigitte said, taking off the protective gear and freeing her hair from the welding mask. Her father's ears perked when she mentioned the pub, looking up at her and no longer gasping for air.

"Now that I can get behind," he admitted.

"Let's not waste time, then!"

She gestured for them to follow and they made their way to the workshop exit together. However, Brigitte stopped before stepping outside and looked over her shoulder to see Nathan was still in the workshop, putting away equipment and materials they were using.

"Hey, aren't you coming?" she asked, making the Waster look up from his work.

"Oh, me?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course! We all worked hard, might as well play hard. Come on, drinks are on me!"

"Oh, now you're being asinine Brigitte!" her father exclaimed. "Drinks are on  _you?!_  Please…"

His daughter cast an annoyed look to him.

"It'll be fun unless you have something else you need to do?" she asked Nathan, who regarded her for a couple of moments before dropping the wrench he held into a box

"Sure, I need a drink," he finally accepted, patting his hands clean.

* * *

For being a small bar within a relatively small military base not at full capacity, it had become very lively by the time the Lindholms, Nathan, and Bastion had arrived. Thankfully, they found a table to occupy. The humans all taking seats around the roundtable while Bastion folded his legs up and became a cube from the waist down as he "sat" close to Nathan, looking around the establishment.

Eventually, a training bot retrofitted with a platter floated to the table, bringing three large mugs of a golden substance with a thick layer of foam at the rim. The mug hefty enough to still look sizeable in Nathan's hand. A very tantalizing sight that he couldn't wait to drink. Glad that accepting the invitation paid off. Everyone quickly settling in for a night of drinking.

" _Skål!_ " Brigitte exclaimed, holding her mug up high in the air.

" _Skål!_ " her father repeated, holding up her glass to hers.

" _Prosit_ ," the Wastelander finished, clinking his glass up to theirs before they all pulled back and began to drink out of their mugs.

Bastion watching the interaction with a tilt of his rectangular head.

Brigitte had her eyes closed as she poured the contents of her glass into her mouth, drinking in beer for a good ten seconds before letting it down to breath. "Ahhh!" she let out, already feeling refreshed from her glass. Around a quarter of it gone.

"What language was that, Nathan?" the auburn-headed Swede asked as she wiped foam away from her lips, but her eyebrows perked when she saw him still drinking his beer – chugging in large amounts with every gulp – his mug becoming emptier by the second.

He wasn't the only one with a voracious thirst, as her father was also chugging large quantities with every gulp, but he was only able to drink about 3/4ths of beverage before having to stop for air, wiping his beard dry. Meanwhile, Nathan kept chugging, finishing just a few seconds later. His mug polished of beer.

"That was good," was all the Waster could say as he bumped his chest, resulting in a hearty burp into his fist. "'Scuse me."

Brigitte was slightly impressed.

"Looks like he can drink faster than you,  _Pappa_ ," she teased.

"Don't care. Got some cold beer in my belly after a day of work. No better feeling than that," the Engineer said, leaning back into his chair and patting the sides of his gut. "Although, wish we had some of your mother's cooking with us. Now that would be perfect!"

"Ohhh, I could really go for some  _semlor_ , right now!" Brigitte confessed, trying not to drool on the table at the thought of some desert.

As the Swedes were reminiscing about home cooking, Nathan went and got himself another mug from a waiting training bot.

This time he was slow with it, taking hearty sips of the drink to taste it. This beer had a crisp, almost clean flavor to it. The foam and bubbles tickling his tongue as he could taste the grain. It wasn't particularly strong, but he was more than willing to keep drinking. Definitely not going to stop at just two mugs. Whatever amount was needed to keep this up.

Still, he wasn't completely detached from the conversation, yet. "What's  _semlor_?" he asks. Unknowingly making Brigitte's – and to some extent, her father's – eyes light up the second he asked that.

And so, they drank. Swapping dialogue as they ingested more beer. Brigitte more than eager to tell the Waster about Swedish cuisine, mainly the pastries, with the occasional correction or addition to the discussion from her father, who also seems engrossed in the topic. The two of them often mentioning Ingrid – her mother and his wife. There were small moments where they spoke to each other in their native tongue, short bursts of laughter sprinkled amongst them. Brigitte going on and telling Nathan more about the pastries her mother would make. He seldom spoke while she did, only addressing her and taking an occasional sip, or gulp, of his beer. He paid attention, though, finding much of what she talked about appetizing. Bastion as well, apparently, having barely moved his head or his body.

"You really like sweets, don't you?" Nathan asked, noticing the way she talked about her mother's cooking, mainly the food with cream and sugar.

"Obvious, isn't it?" she smiled.

"I'm just surprised given your physique. Would seem hard to maintain with a sugar tooth like yours."

"Having someone like Reinhardt as my godfather helps. A lot of 'tricks of the trade', as he would say."

Torbjörn cleared his throat rather loudly into his fist, making Brigitte turn her head to the noise.

"Yes, you helped a lot, too, papa," she assured her father, patting him on the shoulder.

"I did more than help! I channeled my inner Yoda and made you my Luke;  _Bohusleden_  our Dagobah!" he proudly boasted, the beer probably giving him a proper buzz, now.

"Oh my god…" Brigitte started blushing, further bolstering her father's pride.

While there were a lot of words that didn't make sense to the Waster, Nathan was most surprised by her "relation" to Reinhardt.

"Reinhardt's your godfather?" he asks, genuinely astonished. "How did that happen?"

Brigitte stared at him for a couple of moments before turning to her father, again. Torbjörn and sighing as he took another drink from his beer, using his metal hand.

"It's quite a long story, one that Reinhardt likes to remind me of… A lot," the Swedish Engineer explained.

"Speaking of Reinhardt…" the Mechanic said, jerking her head to the entrance of the bar, spotting the large German's frame pop in through the doorway. Walking towards their table. Some of the other patrons around the bar greeting him as he walked by.

"Ah, you have started drinking without me?!" he exclaimed, holding out his arms in faux surprise and hurt. "How could you?!"

"You're late!" his goddaughter responded, smiling warmly but frowning when she noticed he was alone. "Where's Fareeha?"

"She had business to deal with in Winston's office. Not sure how long it will take, but hopefully, not long."

Reinhardt grabbed a free chair and sat between his goddaughter and his old friend, both giving him an ample amount of space to fit at the table. Easily taking up a quarter of it.

After getting seated, he turned around and snagged himself a drink from the robot waiter into his large hand, not wasting time as he brought the brim to his mouth. He took it slow, however, his eyes closed as he gently drank and savored the taste rather than ingesting as much as he could under a few seconds. But even then, half of the drink was gone when he set the mug down, letting out a refreshed sigh.

"So, what stories have we swapped at the table in my absence?" he asked, leaning into the table as he addressed everyone with his bad and good eye. "Anything good? Or should I provide the narrative this time?"

"I'd prefer listening to something we haven't heard before," Brigitte responded, wincing at the thought of listening to another one of his spiels.

"They are timeless classics! Who wouldn't want to listen to such grandiose and suspense?"

"Because you're the only one who calls them 'classics'."

"If it's novelty you're after, I'm sure Nathan might have something for you!"

The mentioned man glanced from his drink and saw everyone looking at him, Reinhardt ever eager, Brigitte ever curious, and Torbjörn ever skeptical. Nathan unamusingly perked an eyebrow, before looking to the side and noticing that Bastion was looking at him as well. His expression not as easy to read.

"Okay, first, thanks for putting me on the spot," Nathan frowned as he adjusted himself in his chair, looking around them and seeing all the people that were in their close vicinity. "And second, there's a lot more people here and closer than in the mess. You won't even hear anything if I speak quieter than my inside voice."

"Ach, don't mind them," Reinhardt dismissed. "Everything is loud and boisterous in this room, with ample amounts of alcohol thrown into the mix. Even tales as good as yours may go unnoticed by anyone not listening."

That was a sound argument, but as if to prove him wrong, the table was approached by one of the waiters who went to Nathan's side and placed a shot-glass right before him. He looked up at the bot in confusion.

"Umm… I didn't order this."

"The patrons at the booth there ordered it for you," the bot explained, pointing to a booth just a few meters from where they were. Nathan turning around to look at them and seeing an entire squad occupying the booth. When he turned, they all smiled and waved to him, one of them holding up a shot glass to him. The recipient narrowed his eyes before grabbing the shot-glass and holding it up to them, to be polite. He turned away from them and back to the table, his tablemates not expecting that.

"Why?"

"To thank you for your work out there in the field," the bot answered.

"Ah… Tell 'em I said 'thanks', then."

The waiter floated away, leaving the table alone, again.

"Sure they won't notice, now?" the Wastelander snarked, then looking at the drink and throwing his head back in one swift gulp. Flipping the glass upside down and planting it on the table top. "Won't say no to a free drink, though."

"Point taken," Reinhardt Wilhelm relented. "Although, I am sure there are less  _sensitive_  subjects you can tell us about. Maybe not as daring or exhilarating, but interesting nonetheless."

"Yeah, like what?"

"What about the food you have back home?" Brigitte almost immediately asked.

"What?" wondering why she would want to know about that.

"I mean, you seem pretty interested when I talked about Swedish Pastries, I kind of wondered what food is like back home for you."

After she said that, Nathan leaned back in his chair and began to ponder about food. While he enjoyed practically all of what's he eaten here so far, he did miss some of the home cuisines. Quite intimate with wasteland cooking, otherwise he wouldn't have survived this long without knowing a damn about it. Recalling his mother being very adamant about that life skill when she taught him, among many others.

"I can't really tell you about any pastries, at least, ones not in centuries-old packaging, but maybe I can talk about ones you can stomach," the Wastelander said, relaxing into his chair.

However, his attention quickly got diverted when his eyes wandered and landed on a large piece of hardware with an arch shape. Its rim a faded color of what should be a rainbow, and its central hull a menagerie of old speakers and wooden paneling. Above its midsection, there was a glass panel that displayed it insides accompanied by a set of controls consisting of actual buttons below it. A significant lack of touchscreen on this piece of musical hardware.

"Is that… A  _jukebox?_ "

"A what?" Brigitte asked.

"He's talking about the big thing back there, sweetie," Torbjörn explained, pointing his thumb behind him.

"What does it do?"

"It plays music," Nathan was quick to answer, astounded that she even asked that question. "Wait, do you not know what a jukebox is?"

"No, this is my first hearing about it.  _You_  know what it is?"

"Of course, they're everywhere, back home."

"Wait, really?" Torbjörn then piped in upon hearing that. "Why?"

"People like music is my guess. Not too hard to salvage or fix up. Why isn't that one working?"

"Winston and Lena found it in storage and thought it would be a bright idea to move it into the bar for 'the atmosphere'. However, only then did they realize it was broken, and haven't been able to get it working since. They even asked me if I could help, but I've got other things to worry about than just some old relic from the 20th-Century. Still uses Compact Discs, for crying aloud!"

Nathan shifted his eyes to the jukebox, seeing it do nothing but collect dust. Shame, as it would've been nice to have some music to accompany the chatter of the bar.

"I'll go take a look at it, then," the Waster said, getting up from his chair.

"Hmph, good luck with that!" the Engineer laughed, taking another drink from his mug.

The table watched Nathan go to the old jukebox and already getting to work examining it. Torbjörn had his arm over the back of his chair as he watched him work with the old machine, some dust shaking off as he moved it to look at its back. Then, crouching down to get a better view of.

"How much you willing to bet he's never getting that thing fixed," Torbjörn chuckled, turning back to the table.

" _Pappa!_ " his daughter quickly scolded. "Have some faith! You don't know that."

"50 E€," Reinhardt replied, earning a scowl from his goddaughter. "What?"

Torbjörn then laughed, confident that he just earned himself some easy money while he finished off the rest of his beer. Unfortunately for him, he almost spilled his drink when he heard the music begin to blast from behind and quickly spun around to see Nathan was already finished. The jukebox now on, the rainbow pattern of its outer shell glowing, movement of the internal mechanism being seen from the little window. The bar becoming quieter for a moment as the patrons turned their heads at the sudden noise, before realizing the music was coming from the weird box in the corner of the establishment.

Nathan certainly didn't expect the sudden outburst, especially being right up against the speaker. The song that was playing opened with a single, suppressed electric guitar playing a few repetitive notes before a male voice accompanied by fast drums joined in.

_"I'm coming out of my cage / and I've been doing just fine /_  
 _Gotta_ , _gotta be down / Because I want it all /_  
_It started out with a kiss, / how did it end up like this? /_  
_It was only a kiss, / it was only a kiss!"_

And then, the vocals and instruments became clear, the drums now making use of cymbals. The guitars and bass maintained their rhythms, and the voice began going off. Nathan noticing the vocabulary and words being thrown about by this singer, never quite hearing a song like this. Vaguely sounding like rock, but not quite. Just glad it wasn't electronic noise.

Leaning into the window, he looked at the disk that was playing. Looking like a smaller, more "compact" record, the graphic cover was scratched off and faded from decades of use and disuse, not even able to read the name of the song or the artist. A wonder that the disc could still be read.

He found what was playing interesting, paying attention to what the lyrics were saying. Having some difficulty with all the noise in the song, but he could follow along. Didn't sound like the brightest subject to sing about, but he liked Marty Robbins. Nathan then earned a few cheers and claps from the other patrons, applauding him for his good work and livening the establishment.

"Hmm," he muttered, walking away from the jukebox back to the table.

Spotting the others looking at him, dumbfounded.

"That was… Quick," Torbjörn noted, switching back and forth between the Waster and the jukebox. "How did you do it?"

"There were just a few loose parts and wires. Wasn't too dissimilar from jukeboxes back home," Nathan explained.

"Interesting song choice," Brigitte said, bobbing her head a little as listened. "I think I've heard Lena listen to this, before. She said it's a 'classic'."

"This sounds like the type of music my parents would've listened to," Reinhardt added.

Nathan sat down, quickly taking a sip from his glass.

"I didn't recognize any of the songs that were in that thing, so I just chose whatever," he said. "Doesn't sound like anything I would usually listen to, but anything better than that electronic shit."

Brigitte smiled before she lifted her wrist up and looked at the holographic display she summoned. Looking at the time.

"Fareeha's still not here," she lamented. "Are you sure it's not anything serious, Reinhardt?"

"I hope not, but I'm not entirely sure. It may have something to do with an upcoming mission," he answered.

"That's a shame, I knew she would've loved to hear this music. Especially from something so retro."

When she mentioned that, Nathan looked at her and was surprised with what he just heard.

'Amari likes  _this?_ ' he thought to himself, looking at the jukebox.

She's always been that professional, but still, that seems like something he would've picked up. Wondering what else she even liked when she is not in power armor. He hasn't even spoken with her since Numbani. If there's anyone that deserves a break, it may as well be her.

"Excuse me," Nathan said, getting up from his chair unexpectedly. "Gotta head to the restroom. I'll be back." He walked away from the table, but only got a few steps away from it before he spun around and accusingly pointed a finger at them. "Don't take a sip from my glass!"

Brigitte and Reinhardt jestingly chuckled and waved at him as he left, Nathan soon out of sight when he went through the door. However, as they began to chat, again, Brigitte noticed in the corner of her eye that Nathan's current mug was gone from where he sat. It didn't take long to find it when she looked up to see Bastion holding the mug with his mechanical hand up to his head. His blue eye scanning the beverage in the glass, where there wasn't much left inside. With one last whir, Bastion flipped the glass towards him 90⁰ and splashed the contents onto his faceplate, dousing the metal. The remaining humans at the table stared at him, and after nothing happened for the next few moments, Bastion pivoted his eye to the glass and his chassis, now drenched in beer. Not wanting him to rust, Brigitte went over to him and began wiping the moisture off him with napkins.

"I'm sorry, Bastion, but…" Reinhardt began to break the news to the large omnic. "I'm afraid you don't have a mouth!"

* * *

The music of the bar faded behind him as he walked out off into the halls of the Watchpoint. He could hear the jukebox transition to another song after he left, but he was too far enough away to hear anything, now. Just his own footsteps and breath by this point, getting outside and seeing the moon high over Gibraltar. He looked at it for a moment, noting all the artificial light on its surface. Probably another subject of research he'll have to 'google' later if he had nothing else to do. Another addition to a long list of things he had been making ever since he learned what the Internet was, just never getting to it until then.

He waded a bit longer in the chilly evening air when he reached the cavern opening to Winston's lab. Getting inside before reaching the stairs, he could already hear that something was wrong. Hearing Fareeha's voice before seeing her above in the office. Only then did Nathan stop and think about what he was even doing. Why he walked across the base from perfectly good beer to check up on someone in the middle of business that wasn't his. Not sure what compelled him to do that. Unsure if he should even walk up the stairs. That voice of hers not getting any softer as he stood there. Nathan walked up the stairs, regardless, his footsteps lighter than usual.

He reached the top floor but didn't immediately walk into the office, instead choosing to stand a couple of meters away from the office entrance and watching what was happening inside. Inside, he obviously saw Fareeha and Winston but didn't expect to see Jesse McCree in there with them, as well. The Cowboy has not made a noise since he got there, only staying close to Fareeha's side. He watched as the Egyptian was arguing with a holoscreen. The only other voice that spoke in the room came from the holoscreen she argued with, unsurprisingly belonging to her mother.

"…You said it straight to my face! You promised you would!" Fareeha scorned Ana through the holoscreen, the anger suppressed but palpable in her voice.

"I know, ḥabībti, I know…" he could hear Ana respond, sounding hurt. For some reason, making a chill crawl up Nathan's back. "But this just came up, and we couldn't ignore it. We had to get intel on the current situation here, it was vital. I'm sorry."

"That's what you always say…" her daughter responded, unconvinced.

"Fareeha, please understand why I'm doing this. Why I've always done this! But… I promise we can spend time with each other, next time! When I get back. I won't take long."

"Yeah, you always say that, too."

Apparently having enough of this discussion, Fareeha scowled and marched away from the holoscreen. Leaving the office, she saw Nathan standing there, having watched that part of their discussion. She only stopped for a moment and narrowed his eyes at him, before walking down the stairs to the ground floor. McCree close behind her.

Nathan watched the two go before he looked towards the office, Winston now speaking to the holoscreen. This time, Morrison's voice came through.

"What's your status?" Winston asked.

"We're still reconning the area, but there isn't much left to recon here," the old Soldier answered. "Armor and personnel from Nellis are all over the area. Hell, we even spotted some local news crews on the edge of Groom Lake's perimeter wondering what all the fuss is about. But Talon's a no-show. Suspected they completely abandoned the base to avoid all the attention, nothing but scorched wreckage and corpses here. Can't blame 'em."

"Do you think they were attacked?"

"Maybe, it's as if a tactical nuke went off here."

"I hope not. Try to see if there is an origin for the disturbance we detected. Call us if you find anything."

"Solid copy."

"Oh, and Jack? Please keep an eye on Ana for me."

"Wilco. 76, out."

The holoscreen blinked off and Winston leaned back into his seat, taking a deep breath with that business done with. Outside his office, Nathan stared at him with his arms crossed over his chest, hearing everything from the transmission. Sounded like they had quite an operation on their hands. The Courier glad he wasn't at the center of it for once. However, his gaze drifted downward and spotted Fareeha sitting at one of the desks with Jesse still by her side. His mechanical arm on her shoulder. Taking one more glance at the office, Nathan walked down the stairs and towards the two.

When he reached them, McCree looked up and silently nodded to him before looking back at his friend. Fareeha sat on a stool and rested her arms against the top of the desk, propping her head up with an arm. She didn't turn her gaze away from the desk when Nathan approached but still heard him walk over.

"What do you want, Brin?" she asked coldly, her gaze still focused on the desk.

"Brigitte and Reinhardt are wondering when you'll come to the bar," he responded, telling her a half-truth.

"Is that it? Well, now they know why I'm late."

"Yeah, I saw."

"And what are you going to do about it? Why do you care? Why are you here and not them?" she then spat out, accusingly.

"I don't know," he truthfully answered. "I guess Brigitte was very convincing. They seemed rather bummed you weren't there. One less person to share drinks with."

"Tell them what happened, and they'll understand why I'm not there."

"Then they'll be confused why you didn't come."

Fareeha pivoted her head to him and looked at him square in the eyes. The Waster's weathered and scarred features unfazed by all the questions asked and received. Her eyes narrowed but she sighed and broke eye contact. Opting to stare at the top of the desk, again. Silence reigned again, but even that didn't last when Nathan spoke up.

"Look, it ain't my business what happened there but…"

Fareeha was ready to cut him off so he would stop before he even started. Not having the time nor patience to deal with him or anyone else for that matter. Not now. Ready to chew him out for anything he was about to say.

"…I fixed up the old jukebox in the bar, so, it's back to blasting music, again. Brigitte said you would've liked some of the songs."

Her features softened when he said that.

"… Jukebox?" she questioned, surprised that he would segue into that subject of all things.

"Yeah. Jukebox. Machine that plays music. Outdated, so I'm told, but still works. Goes along great with drinking."

Fareeha was almost in disbelief at what Nathan was saying, looking up at him with an almost incredulous expression. Was he asking her to… Hang out?

"You got that busted ol' thing workin', again?" Jesse McCree spoke up, smirking as he addressed them both. "Hell, that sounds like a swell combination!"

Fareeha looked over the shoulder he had his mechanical hand on, the old friends making eye contact for a moment or two. Dropping her gaze back to the desk, she sat up in her chair and brought a hand up to his. Brushing her hand against his.

"Yeah, it does," she agreed, before standing up on her own. Needing a distraction like everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/20/2018: Fixed some minor formatting errors.


	53. Settling

About 160-Miles South of Groom Lake, Nevada

2076

All three Wasters in the back seat of the old man's truck were knocked out for the entirety of the trip; Parmley slumping against the back of his seat, Boone lurching forward with his arms over his chest, and Veronica resting on her side. Most of the trip was completely silent, the most noise in the cabin either belonging to the little boy on his tablet. But by this point in the drive, the boy had also fallen asleep in the front passenger seat, the old man the only one left awake in the truck. Save for the two dogs who unfortunately had to deal with the outside conditions in the bed of the pickup. Senior occasionally glancing into his rear-view mirror, checking to see if they were still asleep. The truck sometimes dipping into a pothole, but their "guests" were so exhausted they barely reacted to the sudden jumps.

After everything that just happened in the short amount of time they had arrived, it wouldn't have made sense if they weren't pass out. Veronica out like a rock, her head resting against the leather that wasn't peeled from centuries of sun and dust. She was still as a rock, too, not noticing the noises or bumps of the road. For the first couple of hours, she had slept serenely against the leather seat like the rest of her friends. Undisturbed and not making a peep aside from light snoring. Unfortunately, the serene expression she bore shifted, her eyes twitching under her eyelids, her face wincing. Grimacing as her mind began to wander.

Veronica wished she was dreaming, but she was having images flash in her vision. Just flashes of people, places, and events, some that seemed familiar and others that were… She just kept seeing Nathan. As if her brain wanted to remind her why she was there. Hammer in why they were there. These thoughts torturing her every time she closed her eyes but knowing why they did. A pained groan escaping her lips after "seeing" her friend. Then, as a flash of light washed over her face, the bright eyes and the gaping maw of a Tunneler made her wake up with a sharp gasp. Sitting up in her seat, her eyes as wide as the moon outside her window. Her forehead perspired as she shifted and looked around in her seat, looking over her shoulder to see another set of lights going in the opposite direction from them. Spotting those headlights illuminating the road behind them until they were gone.

Meanwhile, Senior looked at his rearview mirror, hearing her suddenly spring up as if she saw a ghost. He watched Veronica relax thereafter, seeing it wasn't anything to worry about. Now trying to calm her breathing. He quickly put his eyes back on the road.

Seeing her friends still with her and sleeping soundly, Veronica felt relieved and sat back into her seat. She didn't feel tired anymore and opted to stare out the window. Trying to find anything interesting to look at in this dark desert. When her nerves and senses began to calm down, her ears perked to a soft noise coming from the front of the truck. Her eye catching a glowing screen that was on the dashboard, which especially interested her as she saw a small computer screen with a display… That had color.

"What the…" she mumbled under her breath.

Then, she recognized the noise she was hearing was the radio, and the old man fiddling with the controls as he tried to find something to tune into. Her eyes switching back to the small display with such clear and crisp picture that she could see the numbers of the radio stations. Not a needle being controlled by a dial, but a continually changing set of colored numbers on a display controlled by a dial.

All in a truck.

The ex-Scribe so starstruck and confused by what she saw, Senior barely noticed as he kept twisting the knob to find something to listen to. Difficult as there weren't many radio stations left, especially out where they lived. Silently cursing himself for forgetting to bring his phone, blaming his old age. Finally, after much searching, the radios and speakers rang to life. An old classic starts to play through, the driver making sure the volume wasn't at a disruptive level. The first things they heard was the slow bass line and echoing vocals of a man singing with the most laidback tone Veronica has ever heard. Music she has never heard, before, but a few seconds into listening to this "alien music", she kind of liked it. Different but pleasant on her ears.

However, Senior regretted it as soon as he recognized what was playing on the only damn radio station in this desert. The slow bass line and echoing vocals making him grit his teeth.

" _It was my own lovely lady, / and she said, oh, it's you._

_And we laughed for a moment, / and I said, I never knew..._

_That you liked pina colada-"_

Senior quickly switched the radio off to that song, putting both hands back on the wheel and eyes on the road. Veronica looked at the seat in front of her, wondering why he acted like that. Saddened that she couldn't listen to that song for the time being, but hopefully, there'll be another time if she can find a radio.

A collection of lights in the distance made her look up and see they were approaching a town. The truck slowing down as they got closer to the outskirts. They then passed by what appeared to be the greeting sign for this town and the headlights faintly illuminated it, but Veronica couldn't get a good look at it because they were a tad fast.

Senior then made a left turn onto another street, going into town and driving in between houses and structures. While they were some lights along their path, some belonging to houses, the place was as dark and quiet as a ghost town. It was bit eerie driving through here and looking out the window, not even seeing anyone outside even at this hour. Eventually, the truck pulled up to a driveway of an old house, Senior parking the truck in front of his garage.

"We're here," he only said, turning the engine off and hopping out. Walking around the front of his truck to the passenger side door, opening it, and picking his grandson up into his arms.

Veronica then took that as her cue to wake the others, making them stir until they got up.

"Urrgh… Veronica? Where are we?" Boone asked, looking around the cabin.

"Their home, I guess," she unsurely answered. "Get the ranger up. I'll take care of the dogs."

Veronica opened her door and hopped out into the desert night, instantly feeling the chill blow against her neck. She stood there and looked around where she was for a moment, getting a better look at their surroundings. Smelling the familiar scent of the sand and old wood around her.

" _Déjà vu_ ," she remarked.

She went to the back of the pickup to see Rex and Cooper still all right, the latter instantly hopping up to lick her face. Whimpering but happy that she was there, and happy drive was over now. With little difficulty, she helped them hop off the back of the truck and walked to the front of the house. Boone and Parmley climbing out of the truck and joining them as they did so. Senior and Joseph were already at the front porch, a lone lamp hanging over them. The others decided to hang back a few yards behind them, in case something happens. Senior kicked the door lightly as he carried his grandson.

"Jennette, open the door. My hands are full," he said.

Next, the door opened, and the voice of a woman was heard from the doorway.

"You're home, finally! I was starting to get worried!" they heard her say but couldn't see her as the old man was obscuring much of their view in the dim light. "Are you both alright? What happened, Clark?"

For some reason, the way she sounded immediately stuck out to them. They thought they heard a slight reverb to her voice as if she was speaking through a helmet. Veronica craned her neck to get a better view but couldn't. Something was off.

"We got held up. Those Deadlock assholes were at it, again," Senior explained. "We ran them off, though, so we're fine."

He held his arms out and Joseph was taken off his hands, now being carried by this Jennette.

"That's good to hear. There's something on the news that's got people all riled up. I thought you might've gotten caught in whatever it was. I told you bringing Joseph on these trips was a bad idea."

"Well… We did have some help with us."

"Help? Who would help all the way out there?"

Senior looked over his shoulder back at the group of drifters they had picked up, seeing them just out of reach from the porch's old light. Well, it was too late to say no to them now. He was close to silently cursing himself for bringing them along.

"Clark, who are those people behind you…?" realizing there was a party behind him.

"Jennette, say hello to the 'heroes' that saved us," he responded as dryly as he could muster, stepping aside to introduce her to the Wasters.

Veronica, wanting to make good first impressions, was already walking forward and ready to shake the woman's hand. Something Nathan also would've done when he went somewhere new. However, her friendly demeanor faded away fast and her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when she finally saw the "woman" who opened the door – a six-foot-tall, bipedal machine in dusty jeans and a red flannel. Her faceplate was silver-colored, with three glowing blue dots forming a triangle on the forehead, with two "eye-slits" beneath them. She could see hydraulics and pistons around the collar of her shirt where she wasn't covered. Instantly taken back to the mechanical monsters they fought at Big Mountain. The others behind her reacted to the reveal, as well.

"What in the…" Parmley blurted out.

None of them expecting this "Jennette" to be a machine. Unfortunately, their reactions were obvious, even in the dark.

"Oh, great…" Clark began to grumble. "Don't tell me you guys hate omnics, do you? Goddammit, we might as well be wasting our time with you."

"What?! Oh, nonononono! That's not what I…" Veronica started to stumble over her words, already fucking up her introduction. Wishing she had as many social graces as Nathan. "I just don't see a lot of…  _people_  like you. I didn't mean anything by what I did. I was just really surprised."

Despite her best effort, that only made Clark and Jennette exchange glances before Clark looked at Veronica rather incredulously.

"You don't see a lot of omnics?" he questioned.

"Not where I'm from," she answered, then holding up her hands and shaking her head. "Look, I'm really sorry. We really got on the wrong foot here. More than embarrassing, really, if I'm speaking for myself. Let's start over; Hi, I'm Veronica!" she finally greeted with a friendly smile.

"Hi! I'm Jennette, a pleasure to meet you," the omnic graciously replied, chuckling.

"That's Parmley, Boone, Rex, and Cooper. Rex is the one with the brain dome."

"I see! I'll admit, I've never seen  _that_  either!"

"Heh, thanks."

The air felt a little lighter after that little exchange, Veronica feeling a little bit better about herself. Making it easier to breathe and continue the conversation, and possibly explain why they're there. Time to discuss business.

"And we would like a place to stay over for the night, or at least until we get our bearings. I hope we aren't being too overbearing," Veronica said.

"If what Clark told me is true, you saved both of them from some nasty thugs. Of course, you can stay with us!" Jennette jovially agreed, reorienting herself and holding Joseph more delicately in her metal arms.

"I'll grab some spare linens and pillows for the living room," Clark spoke up about to head inside.

"Living room? Clark, we have an extra room, it's okay if they can spend the night there."

" _That_ room? No, I don't-"

"Clark, they saved you and your grandson. Don't you think that deserves some more hospitality?"

The old man looked at the machine, squinting as if he was about to start wailing on her for speaking up against her. But he just sighed and thinned his lips.

"Fine, but they're cleaning everything up when they leave," Senior relented before looking at the group and nodding. "Welcome to our home."

He walked inside without another word, Jennette and Joseph by the door. She turned to them, still holding that little boy in her arms like she was his mother. Veronica made a mental note to ask what the deal was with them.

"You all must be so tired if you came so far. Hungry, too, I imagine!" Jennette said, sounding sympathetic. "Come inside, please. I can whip something up for all you to eat."

"No, thanks, ma'am. That's fine," Boone declined. "We have our own food. We just want a proper place to sleep, is all."

"What kind of host would I be if I let you stay in our home and not give you any food? I'm programmed to know how to cook, so you're not leaving this house without having a treat. Please, wipe your feet and come in. Paws, too."

She stepped aside from the doorway and gestured for them to walk through. The Search Party all exchanged glances with each other before Veronica shrugged and walked up the porch, thanking Jennette as she entered. The machine returning the gesture. The rest of them followed suit, making sure to wipe their feet on the welcome mat. Rex doing so without needing to be instructed.

Once inside, they found the interior of the stranger's home, in an apparent distant land, to be surprisingly normal. There was ordinary looking furniture, décor, rugs, appliances, and even picture frames on some of the walls and tables. Only some slight differences in the designs that were somewhat noteworthy. Veronica caught glimpses at some of these pictures, seeing they were also in color but not drawings and paintings, actual photos taken with cameras. One photo showed a picture of a young man and woman standing in front of this house. Another photo on the same wall had a photo of the same man but much older, standing with another man that looked a lot like his younger self. No Jennette or Joseph in sight.

The house was spacious but not large, as the five guests were a little cramped in the hall when Jennette led them to the spare room. She opened the door and flipped the lights on, letting them see a modest room with one bedroom, a desk, some shelves, and a dresser. The bed was big enough for one of them, maybe two, but there was plenty of space on the floor for their bedrolls. Everything still looked neat and tidy in this room, even for one that's presumably unused. Other than the furniture, there wasn't anything else notable about this bedroom. Veronica getting a sense that something seemed to be missing from this room, but she wasn't about to start battering their hosts with questions so soon.

"Make yourselves cozy and at home," Jennette said before pointing. "This room might be a little dusty. Bathroom is down the hall to the left. If you need anything don't be afraid to ask. When I'm not busy I'm usually in the living room charging."

"Charging?" Veronica asked, then catching herself. "Oh, right, duh. Sorry about that."

"Don't worry. I'll give you guys some privacy and bring your food in a couple minutes. Clark will lend you some of our spare linens, I hope."

"Thanks. We appreciate it."

"Anything for our local heroes!"

Veronica smiled at the response, albeit somewhat halfheartedly. Without another word, the bipedal machine closed the door and left the Wastelanders alone in the room. Veronica instantly lost that smile and finally breathed. The questions only mounting by the second after she spoke to the talking machine.

'Not even an hour in town and the locals are calling us that. Great,' she lamented to herself, not as enthusiastic about the title as she used to be. Especially when it was used on her.

"So…" Veronica turned around to face the others. "I call dibs on the bed if that's okay with you guys."

The two men looked at each other without a hint of displeasure or disappointment at the announcement.

"Go ahead, Veronica," Craig nodded. "You look like you need it."

"I do? Geez, thanks," she responded a bit peeved.

"Yeah, Parmley and I are gonna head back outside to bring our supplies inside from the car. Maybe some of our guns, too, if the old man allows it. I kinda doubt he will. You still gonna be up for dinner?"

"As much as I'm interested to see and eat what  _she_  would prepare, I'm too tired even for that. Sorry, guys," she apologized.

"Don't worry. We'll give you some privacy for now. Sleep tight."

With that, both Parmley and Boone left the room and walked out into the hall to retrieve their belongings from the outside. After the door had closed behind them, Veronica sighed and sat down onto the edge of the bed. She looked up to see the two dogs were already sleeping in a corner of the room, curled up next to each other.

Taking after their good idea, she got up from bed and began taking off the jumpsuit that's been clinging to her body for the past day. It wasn't the most pleasant affair to go through as her body was sticky with hours' worth of sweat and bodily fluids, the odor of the suit's insides making her gag a little. After setting it aside, the nude Scribe went over to her pack and retrieved a grey tank top and a pair of boxers. For a moment, she thought about using their hosts' shower, if they had one, but decided she'd rather wait until next morning. Hopefully, after breakfast and when they got to know them better.

Slipping her clothes on, she sat back down onto the bed and looked around the bedroom one more time. She looked at the walls that were painted in a shade of beige, noting how the paint wasn't chipped or peeling, the worst blemish being cobwebs and dust in the corners. The wooden furniture around her didn't look particularly old or damaged, practically in near perfect condition from what she's seen. And the linens she sat upon were clean and fresh, despite what Jennette said about dust. Aside from the bed, Veronica was certain not even the Sink was as clean or well-maintained as this room. Just where the hell were they?

Nonetheless, it was getting late into the night and Veronica went over to the light switch. Shutting it off, the room went dark and she sat back down on the bed. She threw the covers over herself and flipped the pillow to the non-dusty side. It oddly felt like a cloud when she rested on it, laying on her side, seeing the glow of Rex's body in the corner of the dark room and lights seeping through the cracks under the door. Hearing some noise on the other side, some voices, most likely from the kitchen. That wasn't enough to keep her awake since her eyelids began to feel heavy and she gently breathed against the blanket hovering over her nose. Everything becoming white noise for the second time.

" _Why did you leave?"_

Unfortunately, what should've lasted for hours barely felt like minutes, as Veronica's eyes snapped open. The first thing she saw was an unfamiliar ceiling, and the first thing she felt was the hot air on her sweaty body. Being smothered under a layer of heat.

She sat up as her head adjusted to being awake, vigorously rubbing her head into her palms. Not to clear out the sleep from her eyes but to vent some of the frustration that was starting to build up inside of her every time she tried to get a good night's rest. Getting nothing but sweats and an empty feeling in her chest.

Only seeing him again, for just a fraction of a moment, in her poor excuse for a dream. Wishing it was a little longer.

Catching her breath and sitting up straight, she looked around to find the others sleeping. Boone and Parmley in bedrolls on the floor next to her, Cooper and Rex still cuddled up to each other in the corner. Noticing someone gave them a rather large pillow to sleep on instead of the carpet.

They were all safe. At least she could take some solace in that.

There was some light pouring in, so she turned around and looked at the bedroom's only window. Through the curtains, there was only a light-blue haze, no bright yellow rays from the sun piercing through. It was still very early in the morning, but she didn't want to get back to sleep. Hopefully, it would be cooler outside before the sun was fully up.

Slowly and carefully to not disturb them, she twirled around and set her feet onto the soft carpet. She got up without making a noise and tiptoed her way to her pack to retrieve a faded brown flannel and some old jeans. While it wasn't the greatest in terms of fashion, she slipped them on and gathered her boots, as well. Modest enough to go outside, she was about to walk out in the hall until she noticed something glinting in the corner of her eye. She spotted a plate to her left on a nightstand, and on top of the plate was this triangular shape that was wrapped in foil. Taped to the foil was a note. She plucked it from the plate, seeing that it was addressed to her.

"Sorry you couldn't join us for dinner. I hope you like this! Signed, Jennette," she read.

Never would she have expected a machine like her to be so hospitable. Knowing her for less than a day, even! With little hesitation, she took the foil-wrapped food and left the bedroom, making sure to not make the door creak too loudly. Out in the hall, she slowly made her way to the front door and watched her step on the hardwood floor. She snuck by the other rooms without a hitch and peeked around the corners to make sure if anyone was there. When she reached the living room, she leaned over and nearly jumped when she saw Jennette just standing with her back against the wall. However, upon further inspection, Veronica saw the omnic was standing on a platform and was as still as a rock – not reacting to her presence. Hearing a light thrumming noise from where she was, some of the lights glowing faintly. After everything seemed to be clear, Veronica stepped out of the hallway and began walking over to the front door. There were no other disturbances when she unlocked and opened it, stepping outside onto the porch.

Now outside, she closed the door behind and took one step down before sitting down. Looking before her to see the town was still largely asleep, and the sky a comfortable shade of blue. The chill air was a welcome relief, Veronica already beginning to feel at ease when it gently blew against her. Already feeling like she was back home again.

Holding it in one hand, she began peeling back the aluminum layers of the foil and revealed some type of breaded food wrap beneath it. The ex-Scribe gave it a few sniffs to determine what it was. She could only see the bread but assumed there must be something inside. So, taking her chances, she bit down on the wrap and instantly got a mouthful of meat and cheese. Obviously, it was cold, but that barely mattered as her eyes lit up and she delved further into a new food experience. It was almost enough to make her forget the experience of waking up earlier, staring out into the blue horizon.

Looking out into the town, she saw it was also about the same size as most frontier towns. Could run the entire breadth of it in five minutes if she wanted to. While it was certainly early to be striking up a conversation with anyone, she could just walk around and take in the sites, learn about this town that way. Explore every street corner she could, like Nathan. There was nothing really stopping her from doing that, aside from the door she couldn't just leave unattended.

Then, the front door opened behind her and Senior stepped through the doorway, already dressed to go outside and holding some black rectangle against his ear. However, he stopped as soon as he saw Veronica sitting outside on the porch.

"What the…" he murmured, lowering his phone from his ear for a second. "The hell are you doing out here?"

"Hi, uh, sorry!" she immediately apologized, shooting up to her feet. "I just woke up earlier and couldn't get back to sleep. I went out here to clear up my thoughts. What about you? What's up?"

Senior frowned a little as he looked at her, then looking at his phone with the words "Calling 911" on it. Before it could even get through, he tapped his finger on the red icon and disconnected the call.

"I was wondering why my front door was unlocked," he answered, his frown not faltering.

"Right… Sorry about that," Veronica apologized again, smiling sheepishly.

The old man eyes narrowed further, only a little before they looked at the foil wrapped food she was holding.

"How's the quesadilla?" Senior asked.

"The what?" Veronica asked back, before looking down at what she was holding. "Oh, it's great! It's cold, but that's my fault for wanting to sleep early."

Then, they heard a series of footsteps from inside and Jennette popped her metal head through the door frame to see what all the noise was about.

"Clark? Veronica? What are you two doing out here so early?" the omnic asked.

"Nothing," Clark quickly answered. "Thought someone broke in and I was about to head out but found her here."

He cast one more glimpse at Veronica before walking inside.

"Still, I might head out later but not before breakfast," he said, brushing past Jennette.

"Tell me when you do, okay?" Jennette requested before turning to Veronica. "So, how is it?"

"It's good! Thank you," Veronica replied. "Sorry I couldn't eat it when it was hot."

"Don't worry, we still have breakfast ahead of us. Maybe then we can get properly acquainted around the dining table when everyone's got a good sleep. I… have a lot of questions if you don't mind me asking them, soon."

"Not at all! Seems like the least we could do, especially for this 'quesadilla'. But we do have some questions of our own, too. We're not exactly locals."

"Anything to help. I'm sure Joseph would want to participate, too. Do you wanna come inside? I'll get breakfast ready, soon."

"Actually, I think I want to walk around for a bit. Take my time and finish this, if that's okay."

"Of course, just be back soon. I'll make sure your friends don't eat from your plate."

"Thanks."

With that, the omnic nodded and walked back inside the house and closed the door. Leaving Veronica to still be astounded by the hospitality she's received. Turning her back to the house, she looked out into the rest of the town. The sun was starting to rise higher over the horizon, replacing that blue sky with a more yellowish tint. She scanned some of the structures in the distance, before walking forward. Taking it slow and looking around as she bit into her quesadilla.

* * *

The kitchen was full of life when Jennette fired the stove up and began cooking breakfast for everyone, including their guests. The omnic mixed, stirred, and fried with machine precision and speed, her two arms acting almost independently yet cooperatively. The only thing stopping her from being faster was the time it took for the food itself to properly cook.

Boone and Parmley, while still inflicted with morning grogginess, couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight. The quality of her programming obvious at this moment. The other thing they couldn't help but be mesmerized by too was the smell of the food itself; It smelled absolutely wonderful.

Finally, after about ten minutes of being the audience, Jennette stopped and turned around to bring two plates of food to the two men. Both the plates had a stack of big, fluffy pancakes with a side of eggs and bacon. If the smell didn't get their rocks off, it was certainly the sight that did it. Boone hid his excitement better than Parmley, but neither of the men could remember times having breakfast quite like this.

"Well, what're you waiting for? Dig in!" Jennette insisted.

The two men didn't need much encouragement as they grabbed their utensils and began chowing down. When their taste buds made first contact, they were more than elated and made their appreciation known. If Jennette could smile she would, though, she would've perked a brow at seeing Parmley eat the pancakes one by one instead of just cutting through them with the knife she gave him. She didn't think much of it, however, and placed another plate on the table with more kid-sized portions in front of Joseph, who sat there and fiddled with his holopad. Even with their breakfast, the two men cast glances at the device. Jennette glanced at it for a different reason.

"Joseph, you know the rules. No holopads at the table," she sternly stated.

The boy cast a disappointed glance to her before shutting the device off and setting it aside, grabbing his utensils to poke at the bite-sized pancakes.

Then, even after everything seemed to be done, the omnic went back and picked up two plastic bowls filled with shredded meat. In the corner of the kitchen and staring right up at her, the dogs sat patiently. Cooper licked his chops more frequently than Rex, but as soon as she set those plates right in front of them, they went wild. Scarfing down as much food as they could. She gave them some pets before standing up and going back to the kitchen counter to clean up.

A few minutes into breakfast, the Wasters had already finished more than half of their plates. They weren't that hungry, to begin with, but the allure of the food helped fuel their appetite. However, they gradually slowed down, feeling a little full before their plates were even empty. This gave Parmley some time to sit back and relax, give his stomach a break to digest his food before going in for more. As he started to relax, he found himself looking at the little boy across from him and at the machine-washing pots and pans. The old man was nowhere to be seen, but he already knew he was the grandfather. So, where did Jennette fit in this?

"Is something wrong?" he suddenly heard Jennette ask, who just got finished washing up the pots and pans.

"Nothing's wrong, ma'am. Especially your cooking," he responded with a smile that did fade away a few seconds later. "I was just wondering if you don't mind me asking, where did you come from?"

"What do you mean?" she cocked her head to the side, leaning back against the counter.

"I mean, how did you end up here? With the old man and Joseph."

The kid looked up at hearing his name and the omnic looked at him.

"Oh, well, it's not that exciting I'm afraid. It's pretty typical, really. One day, Clark decided to order a model of my variant off Congo and had me shipped to his house. As simple as that," she explained. "I've been here and lived with them since."

Despite being a simple explanation, the language threw the Wastelanders off.

"Wait, 'order'? 'Shipped'?" the Ranger repeated.

"Of course, there aren't a lot of outlets or shopping malls out here," the omnic answered, not catching on.

"Oh, I see… Well, then, why?"

"He needed someone to help around the house is my first guess. Help cook food, help clean up, even help with his work from time to time. But now, I help him take care of his grandson."

"Where are his parents?"

"My dad's dead," Joseph then suddenly spoke up, catching everyone off guard.

Parmley instantly lost his smile and Boone looked up with a blank expression.

"Joseph!" Jennette exclaimed.

"What? It's true," the kid frowned, going back to his bacon like it was nothing.

Boone and Parmley exchanged glances, more than surprised. They had their suspicions ever since they walked inside and saw those photos, but they never asked for them to be confirmed.

"I'm sorry to hear that, kid," the Sniper said.

"Eh, no biggie," Joseph shrugged, not bothered from bringing that up. "I was only a baby when he died. I don't know my mom, either, but Grandpa said I wouldn't like her, anyway."

That only resulted in more silence between the two men.

"But that only means I can be more like Overwatch!" the kid then jovially exclaimed.

"What?" Parmley questioned.

"Yeah, because all the people in Overwatch have something bad happen to them, but they always become cooler and more awesome after. Every cool hero does!"

Parmley only squinted more in confusion against this boy's sudden leap into happiness. He then felt something brush against his shelter and turned to Boone patting him on the back with a small smile on his face before going back to his breakfast. At least there was some sort of silver lining to this.

"Uh-huh, speaking of heroes…" Jennette then lets out, having been a spectator to the entire exchange, going to the table and taking a seat adjacent to them. "Where are all of you from?"

"Out West," Boone quickly answered, hoping that was a good answer.

"Really? Then what are all of you doing out here?"

"Looking for someone. A friend actually, despite what all the guns and armor will make you think."

"I hope. Although, if they're your friend they probably aren't that bad."

"Yeah, he's a good guy."

"Is he with Overwatch?" Joseph then asked, mentioning that name for the umpteenth time.

Boone hesitated to answer that, unsure who Overwatch even was but knowing that they were associated with Nathan somehow. Wondering whom he had gotten himself wrangled with this time.

"I don't know," the Sniper honestly answered. "I've heard a lot of talk about him with them."

Joseph's eyes lit up and his mouth became agape, but Jennette's head slightly tipped upon hearing that. Being silent for a couple of moments, after. The lack of facial features making it hard to see how she truly reacted to what she just said.

"Really? Well, I'm afraid you're a long ways, then, Mr. Boone," she stated, trying to sound sympathetic but cautious. "If your friend really is with Overwatch then there's no telling where he is or where they are, and it's not like they want to be found given the current state of things… What's his name? Does he even go by one?"

Boone opened his mouth to say his real name but quickly decided against it, opting to use another moniker he's apparently going with here, nowadays.

"' _The Man in Black Armor'_ ," he recalled.

Jennette and Joseph became silent after that, but Jennette's was more of a stunned silence. That seemed obvious.

"Oh," was all the machine mustered.

"You've heard of him?" Boone asked.

"Yes, he's caused quite a stir in the news, lately. All over the world."

Now the Wastelanders were the ones who found themselves dumbstruck and silent when they heard that one word. Boone suddenly feeling a lump form in his throat, realizing that the breadth of their search had expanded, for the worst.

"The world…?! Uh-wha…?" the Ranger began to stammer on his own words, trying to comprehend what he was just told. "Wait… Where are we?"

"Uh… Nevada," Jennette answered, her faceplate betraying her confused tone.

"What?! Nevada! As in the state! You mean we're in… Where specifically in Nevada?"

The conversation took a quick and confusing tone, Jennette and Joseph's looking at each other for a moment. Wondering why they were asking this.

"You mean no one didn't tell you-?"

Suddenly, they heard the front door slam followed by feet rapidly hitting the hardwood floor. They all jumped to see Veronica appear in the kitchen doorway, breathing heavily and with sweat on her forehead. Acting as if she had seen a ghost.

"Guys! You need to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice laden with shock.

"What?!"

"You'll see it yourself. Just come on!"

She waited no longer as she sprinted down the hall again, leaving them in the kitchen. With a bark, both Rex and Cooper were the first ones to follow her, leaving Parmley and Boone no other choice but to follow. They quickly excused themselves from the table and gave chase, going where she went. At the same time, Senior ran out with a shotgun, thinking someone had actually broken into the house this time but instead saw the guests running through the door.

"Hey, where the hell are all of you-?!"

They, unfortunately, couldn't explain as they were more concerned with keeping up with their friend, wondering what has gotten her so flustered. They were afraid that something bad had happened but couldn't figure out what.

When outside, they all ran across dirt and sand under a now blistering sun, seeing Veronica a couple of yards ahead of them. She was taking them East, running through shortcuts and in-between buildings to whatever she had found. Some of the other town's residents, who were now beginning to wake up, saw a group of strangers with two dogs running across their small town. In just a minute or two, the Search Party had come across the only road into town and kept running as Veronica kept going. However, Parmley, who was at the end of the group, nearly got hit by a car that slammed on the brakes and honked at him. The driver of the tire-less vehicle popping his head out of his window.

"Watch where you're going, assholes!" the driver screamed.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" he held up his hands, surprised.

The driver flipped the bird and drove off, leaving the Ranger with his heart pumping even more. However, his attention was then drawn back to Veronica as she now stood still in front of what she had brought them to see.

It was a metal sign held up by two wooden posts on either side. It was aged and faded, like much of the town, rusted like an old mine cart. However, it had silver art of mountains and the sun when below a word that consisted of similar-colored letters. He read it and it took a while for it to register with him as his brain was pounding, but his breathing stopped when he realized the name of the town posted on the board.

The three Wastelanders just stared at the silver word, getting an answer that gave them a million more questions. This town seeming nothing like the one they left behind in the Mojave, in ruins from an infestation.

Not expecting to find themselves back in "Goodsprings".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! Got into a little funk last week but I'm feeling a little better now. Still got a good chunk before school starts again at the end of August. Let's not dilly-dally!


	54. Further Acquainting

Watchpoint: Gibraltar Storage Room

2076

The storage room was large, dark, and dusty, sparse of activity nor excitement. Not often ventured into by any of the personnel on base except for a few occasions if they wanted to find something they could use or store something they couldn't use. It still served some utility in that regard – of being a place to store something. While Overwatch wasn't going to say no to fresh recruits anytime soon, one ironic consequence about having more people on the base is that they tend to bring stuff with them. And sometimes they put that stuff somewhere where there is room, away from their quarters. And more frequently than preferred, that stuff stays there indefinitely. Taking up space that could've been used for more practical things, like supplies.

Which is why Nathan Brin found himself in the room again and walked in between the rows of scaffoldings, carrying all manner of junk and non-junk into assorted shelves and piles. Boxes, crates, and bags – marked or unmarked – carried to spots he took the liberty of labeling. Nathan wearing his Ranger Helm to block out all the dust flying and to help him see in the dim light. Maybe later, he would work on fixing the lights in this room, if he had nothing else to do.

Which was a guarantee.

Plopping a duffle bag full of old Overwatch uniforms under a scaffolding he designated the "Apparel" section, he patted dust off his hands before reaching to his backside and pulling out a translucent holopad that hung off the side of his belt. Pressing a button, the device lit up and cast a slight blue glow around him. What was immediately displayed was a handwritten list he had created on the device, snapping the stylus he used to compile it off the tablet's side. He would've used clipboard, paper, and pen, but since people seemed to give him nothing but confused stares when he asked for the first thing, he opted for the tablet. It had its uses over an ordinary clipboard, not needing a light to be read, only having to "scroll" through multiple pages, and containing an assortment of tools besides list making. He thought it was neat when he would finish writing something down and then have his handwriting "magically" turn into a legible, clean font – as if typed by a computer. It did make things easier, even for a chore many would consider monotonous, but Nathan didn't mind.

Sorting, arranging, cataloging – whatever people wanted to call it – was somewhat meditative for him. Having a big list with numbers and notes in front of him as he walked up and down the room, checking and counting everything around him. Putting things where they should be, categorizing them next to each other, and just keeping stuff neat and orderly. A skill he's cultivated for decades in his life and a skill this room needed considering the medical supplies and foodstuffs shared the same shelf with busted furniture and metal junk. No one else seemed to be bothered to do fuck all, so he might as well. Giving him a sense of mind and control, left to do whatever in this room without anyone else pestering him. The Storage Room providing peace and quiet.

Leaving him alone to blast Kay Kyser's "Jingle, Jangle, Jingle" on his Pip-Boy in private. The song blasting through the rows. No one else listening to it but him.

Humming and bobbing his head along to the tune, he finished writing the last thing on the list. As soon as that was done, he looked up and took a step back to examine his handiwork. There were rows of assorted paraphernalia that rose high to the ceiling but in neat little stacks and distinguished categories. One row for medical supplies, one for machine parts, and a row for miscellaneous crap, to name a few. When he looked around, he saw some of the shelves and scaffoldings were just barren of anything. Having either made better use of the space and keeping things together, or just throwing out the junk for Lindholm or the others to use. Freeing up a lot of space for whoever needs it. Happy with himself and what he's done, for once.

Wanting to celebrate a little, Nathan took off his Ranger Helm and walked to a little corner with a crate and a chair he set up. Placing the helmet and tablet on the crate, he sat down with a relieved sigh before he pulled out his Vault 13 Canteen. Taking one celebratory sip and sitting there to relish in his sense of accomplishment from sorting the inventory, the atmosphere livened by his Pip-Boy's speaker. The last instrumental break in the song fading away, replaced by the next song in the holotape's playlist. The strumming of a single guitar before Marty Robbin's voice came through. Nathan already knowing the words the second the guitar started playing, tapping his finger on his holster where his pistol was.

He sat there for the duration of that song, silently singing along to it, bobbing his head, and occasionally taking more sips from his canteen. Nothing but him, the song, and the dimly-lit room. It wasn't bad.

When the song ended with a final strumming of the guitars, Nathan took one more sip and got up from his seat. About to go off and find something else to do to keep himself busy and useful. Good timing, as the tablet on the crate lit up and Athena popped up on the screen.

"That was quick," she complimented, sounding impressed.

"Thanks," the Wastelander replied.

"With that done, can you please report to the lab?"

"What for?"

"We have a new recruit that we want you to show around."

For some reason, he couldn't take that response seriously.

"I can think of several people more qualified to take that on than me," he stated.

"Unfortunately, you're the only one that is still available to handle such a task. Everyone else is busy in some capacity. I assure you, it won't take long. Also, she personally requested to see you."

"She?" his ears perked.

"Yes. It is my understanding you know each other quite well."

Nathan thought about who she could even be referring to, certain that there weren't a lot of women he knew that would be a "guest" to the Watchpoint. Sure as hell wouldn't be Maria, as he had no clue how she would even get a mile within this place. Curiosity eventually got the better of him as he began to gather his things.

"I'll be right there," he spoke into the holopad, before switching it off.

However, as he was about to go, he stopped and glanced at the shiny wood of the acoustic guitar he saw the last time he was there. Freshly polished of dust and resting in a chair of its own. He looked at it for a moment more before walking away. Switching off his Pip-Boy's speaker as he did so.

* * *

Hana Song walked around the Watchpoint, looking for something. Even though she spent a lot of time outside of her quarters, she seldom ventured into the hangars where the aircraft were kept, not much of a reason for her unless her Mech was there. Instead, she was looking for someone she wanted to talk to about a specific subject. Even with several engineers and mechanics around her, it was easy to spot the tall redhead who was currently tending to one of the forklifts. Hana walked over to Brigitte, who eventually noticed her and smiled.

"Hey, Hana! How are you?" Brigitte asked.

"Eh, good, I guess. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Hana then asked her.

"Oh? Uh, sure, what's up?" Brigitte responded, standing up to address Hana and patting her hands.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of things about… uh… Nathan?"

The tall Swede's smile blinked away for a second.

"What? Why?" she asked, cocking her head.

"I heard you and some of the others hung out with him in the bar, and that he got the big-ass music box that's been sitting there to work."

"The jukebox?"

"Yeah, that thing. I know it has a bunch of old songs on there, like stuff from the early-2000's and late-1900's so I wanted to ask… Did he like anything on it?"

Not expecting that to be the question she was going to ask about Nathan, Brigitte frowned but still thought about it. Trying to recount what happened after he had brought some life into the bar with his handyman skills.

"He did mention it didn't sound like anything he would usually listen to, whatever that means, but was just happy that it wasn't 'electronic shit'," she explained. "Other than that, he didn't really say anything else, about the music at least."

"Huh, figures," Hana mumbled. "I guess his tastes are a bit more 'vintage', then."

"Why do you want to know?"

Hana looked at Brigitte for a moment, considering whether she should divulge the why of her reason for asking. Wanting to keep what she was thinking lowkey. However, it's not like she couldn't trust her.

"I kind of want to know what his tastes are in music," she explained

"Why?" Brigitte questioned.

"I don't know. Lately, it seems like he's been only getting grumpier and edgier. Got to do something to make sure he doesn't go berserk on everyone."

"And you think compiling a playlist of music he might like will solve this?"

"Maybe. It's better than bringing him along to consume large amounts of alcohol."

"Hey, to be fair, he can hold his liquor very well! I was genuinely impressed by the end of the night. Don't be jealous because you blush after one beer."

"Just because I blush doesn't mean I'm drunk! I can hold my liquor just fine, too! I only want to know what songs he likes."

A moment after, Brigitte looked up from Hana and perked a brow. She smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the forklift.

"Well, you can ask him yourself, if you want," she said, maintaining that smirk.

"Huh?" Hana said, before turning around and seeing Nathan walking across the hangar. Not far from where they were but he didn't spot them, yet.

Her eyes widened, and she quickly scrambled out of sight, running behind Brigitte and concealing herself behind the taller woman. Brigitte frowned but didn't think much more of it as she raised a hand and waved it in the air. Hana quick to voice her concern. "What are you doing?! I'm trying to be incognito!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, Nathan!" Brigitte called out anyway, catching his attention.

"Hey, Brigitte," he responded, waving back.

"Still up for the armoring session, later?"

"I'll be there."

"All right, see you then, dude!"

Nathan nodded and went on his merry way.

After he had left the hanger, Brigitte stood up from the forklift and turned around to see Hana still timidly hiding behind her. Worried that Nathan still might be there. However, she blinked and looked up at the Swede.

"What?"

"I'll help you," Brigitte stated. "Because I'm kind of curious of where this will lead. Your plan sounds cute!"

"Cute?!" Hana resented hearing that.

"Yeah. I'll make sure to pose some questions to Nathan and ask what he likes to listen to, later. But I do think it would be just better if you outright asked him yourself."

Hana scowled but quickly realized that a mission like this would require any assistance she could get. Not to mention, Brigitte is one of those that Nathan was more "comfortable" around.

"Fine," the Mech Pilot relented. "But don't screw it up, all right? I want it kept secret."

* * *

Nathan reached Winston's lab, literally impossible for him to forget the route to it, now. He could hear people talking upstairs but wasted no time climbing up the steps. However, when he got to the top of the stairs and was about to walk into the office, he didn't find the usual suspect in Winston's office – the giant gorilla with glasses lounging on his big tire. Instead, a giant four-legged machine with green tusks conversing with two holoscreens. The machine quadruped turned to Nathan and saw him, her eyes flicking up.

"Hello, Mr. Brin!" Orisa greeted.

"What in the hell…?" Nathan grumbled.

Despite unwelcomed appearances, he stepped into the office..

"Nathan, you're here! Good," Athena said.

"So, this is what I'm here for, huh?" he asked, walking over and scrutinizing the room. "Where's Winston?"

His eyes caught movement in one of the holoscreens that were hovering over the desk and saw the answer to his question. In the one that wasn't displaying Athena's logo.

"Right here!" the Gorilla waved into the screen. Somewhere else entirely. "Sorry, I'm not there. I'm currently deployed and I'm having Athena watch everything in my stead."

"And what exactly are you deployed on?" Nathan asked, looking in the background and seeing it was still day where Winston was.

"Well, that's uh-"

Then, another face popped in through the video feed, near the bottom of the screen. It was Efi Oladele.

"Oh, uh, hello, sir!" the little creator greeted. "I hope Orisa is being polite to you over there."

"Uh… Hi, kid," Nathan greeted back.

"Sorry if all of this seems sudden," Winston spoke back up. "But I am currently deployed in Numbani to assist Efi with working on some projects she got cooking for the defense of Numbani. In the meantime, she sent over Orisa."

Nathan looked to the large omnic standing next to him, who in turn, looked at him.

"I've noticed. Why?"

"Efi thought it would help boost and improve my learning algorithms if I spent the next couple of weeks with Overwatch," Orisa happily explained. "I am certain I will learn something valuable in my time here. And I must thank you, Winston, for giving me this opportunity to work alongside you and your team."

"Don't mention it, Orisa. Efi already did a fine job programming you, among other things," Winston replied, before looking down at her creator and patting her on the shoulder. Earning a smile and a "thanks" from her. "Which is why we've summoned you, Nathan. Orisa – and to an extent, Athena – would like for you to bring her on a short tour. Just show her around the Watchpoint. That's all."

"Really? That's it?" Nathan questioned, thinking that there could be a catch.

"That's it," Winston said, as sure as can be.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at the holoscreen then at Orisa, who made eye contact with him and clicked her eyes to appear friendlier. Having a good few hours before he would have to meet-up with Brigitte, again, he didn't have anything else to do.

"Fine," he relented, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "Wait for me downstairs and we'll get this done with."

"Of course, thank you!" Orisa said, before walking away. "Goodbye, Efi! Goodbye, Winston!

"Goodbye!" they both said through the screen.

"Remember, Orisa," Efi began before signing off. "Seeing is better than hearing!"

With that, Orisa walked down the stairs to the ground floor to wait for Nathan, and Efi walked out of view from the screen to attend to her other duties. Now, it was just Athena, Winston, and Nathan in the office, and the human made sure to look around and confirm that they were alone.

"Finally, with that out of the way, any luck finding my Transportalponder?" the Waster asked, his voice still hushed even if they were alone.

"Unfortunately, no," Winston said, his demeanor sulking a little. "We've had some interesting developments, as you may or may not have heard, but have bared no fruit in trying to find your device. I'm sure we'll find something."

"Yeah," Nathan sounded unconvinced.

"You know, when I come back, I can show you something I've been working on for quite some time. It is a bit sensitive, so I can't tell you everything about it when I'm not there, but I'm certain it's something you'll be interested in."

"I'm sure it is, whatever you say. I'll be waiting."

For some reason, Winston felt unconvinced by what Nathan said. Nonetheless, they had the rest of the day to get through and Winston let out a final sigh before logging off.

"I'll see you, then," he said. "Take care of everyone. Okay, Athena?"

"Of course, Winston," the loyal AI responded.

With a final nod, the holoscreen blinked off and left the AI and the human back alone in the Gorilla's office. Scoffing, Nathan walked away and made his way down the stairs. Seeing Orisa standing in the middle of the room and staring up at everything that caught her eye. As if fascinated with everything and trying to take in as much information she could about each individual thing, like Bastion. When Nathan reached the ground floor she noticed and excitedly trotted over to him. Towering over the tall Waster with ease, despite being the one technically under "his wing" for the impromptu tour. Or, however long he can stand her before he goes insane.

"Mr. Brin, I am very excited to be taken on this tour throughout Watchpoint: Gibraltar!" she proclaimed, her tone and eyes reflecting that.

"Uh huh, wish I could say the same," Nathan honestly said to her.

"And just so you know, I will be listening extra carefully to hopefully appease you and make the objective of achieving your forgiveness much closer within my parameters. Not a single second of your presentation will be wasted."

"Really? Well, you're going to work a bit harder now for saying that."

Orisa's eyes became wide disks.

"Nathan, please…" Athena said.

"Oh," Orisa said, momentary silence following. However, she pumped her fist in the air and her eyes became "determined". "Then I will try even harder to achieve forgiveness!"

Nathan rolled his eyes, before walking to the exit and gesturing for her to follow.

Then, he spent the next half-hour walking throughout the base with the big machine in tow. Taking her to wherever he could. Knowing the facility's layout like the back of his wandering hand. However, even if he knew the ins and outs of this place as well as anyone else living here for the past couple of months, he wasn't keen on spouting himself like a Mr. Handy in an old museum. Keeping things short to save himself the time. Orisa didn't seem to catch on to his curtness, which was all the better for him. Although, that didn't stop her from asking questions. It prompted her to.

"This is the mess hall," Nathan curtly said as he cast a thumb over his shoulder to the entrance of the cafeteria, not even looking as he continued walking past it. "It's where everyone eats."

"Is the nutritional content of the food here satisfactory for the daily operations conducted here?" Orisa asked.

"…Yeah."

"That is good to hear."

Nathan groaned but kept going. Next, they reached the hangar where most of the aircraft and heavy construction equipment were stored.

"This is the hangar," Nathan graciously enlightened Orisa as he barely bothered to look up. "Where we keep all the aircraft and stuff."

"Amazing!" she exclaimed, looking happy as she stared up at the old Overwatch ships. "I wasn't transported here in one, but I am glad I could get to see the MV-261 Orcas for myself. Efi will appreciate these pictures!"

"Pictures?"

He looked back to see Orisa's eyes snapped closed and open rapidly as she looked at the dropships. The sound of a camera shutter emanating from her speaker. Nathan perked an eyebrow and stood there for several moments until her eyes stopped shuttering. Looking down at him after, seeing him with his arms crossed.

"You done?"

Next, they explored the next few wings and sections of the base, Nathan giving more general descriptions while Orisa asked more incessant questions. Really, this only just served to mildly annoy or perturb the Waster throughout the tour he was giving her. He was sure she could learn all she wanted to from just a simple data upload from Athena but was already going through all the effort of humoring her. Unsure what's Athena's angle is supposed to be in allowing this to happen.

'Won't be long, now,' he thought as he walked outside into the sun and brought Orisa to the last place on his mind. Bringing her in front of the large landing pad where it ended at the cliff edge on the left and a wall of mountain rock on the other. The one place he's been picked up and dropped off dozens of times before, and most likely where Orisa was dropped off at, as well. He felt there wasn't much explanation needed for this area, but he opened his mouth, anyway.

"And this is the landing zone," Nathan affirmed, looking and seeing everything where they should be. "Where they pick up and drop off the most valuable goods, I guess."

"You mean the agents?" Orisa asked.

"Yeah, the agents."

She regarded him for a moment before looking around. Taking in all the natural sunshine and the sea breeze that constantly blew over this place. Nathan, of course, didn't think much of this place after having his senses dulled to it over the course of months. Just standing there as he pulled out a pack of smokes and stuck one into his mouth.

"Excuse me for one moment, please," Orisa then suddenly blurted out, walking away from the landing pad and towards the edge of the cliff.

Nathan watched as she walked over there and stopped right at the edge, just facing the direction of the water. Not moving or looking anywhere else as she just stood there over the cliff face.

After seeing her not do anything as she stood there, Nathan, with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, walked over to Orisa and stood beside her. Seeing the vast Mediterranean before them, looking down to see waves crashing against the rocks far below. Feeling the mist all the way up to where he was. He looked at the blue expanse for a couple more seconds until he brought his lighter up and lit the end of his cigarette.

The two of them stood there, just watching the water. Looking West.

"Efi would've loved to see this," Orisa says, her gaze unwavering from the Mediterranean.

Nathan cast a curious glance up at her before looking back to the sea.

"She's never seen water, before?" he asked.

"She has, of course, but she has never seen quite a large body of water like this," the creation elaborated, sounding in awe of the volume of water she's witnessing. "She hasn't had much time to do anything of leisure ever since she constructed me and ever since she has taken up defending Numbani as her duty. Which is why I am here by myself, to learn and to bolster my own programming while she is home, working on more ways to defend Numbani. Especially after our encounter with Doomfist."

Nathan glanced up at the machine, rolling the cigarette around in his lips.

"Good for her," he said as he blew a cloud of smoke out in front of them.

"Yes. People are proud of her, which makes me happy," Orisa stated.

The Mediterranean kept moving as they stared at it, the warm waves never letting up.

"Mr. Brin, can I ask you a personal question?" she asked.

"No," the Courier was quick to decline.

"Oh… Can I ask you a different question, then?"

Nathan shifted his eyes to her.

"Is it normal to miss someone even if they haven't been away from you that long?"

Nathan blinked, looking back up at the horizon over the Mediterranean and not moving after she asked that. When he turned his head to regard her she was looking down at him the entire time, waiting for an answer.

"That's a really intimate question to ask someone you haven't known that long, Orisa," Nathan Brin stated, breaking eye-contact.

"Oh, I see…" Orisa replied before looking back at the water.

"You miss Efi, then?"

"Yes."

"Then, yeah. It's normal."

Orisa looked up from the sea, having her question answered. Meanwhile, Nathan took another drag from his cigarette and thought about the people he's been away from. Having not seen them for some time even before being "contracted" into Overwatch. Being whisked away in a blue fuck-all bolt of lightning. A dozen or so faces gracing his memory. He missed them very much, too.

Unfortunately, as he took a little stroll through the memory highway, he realized he had neglected to show Orisa one area of the Watchpoint. Having forgotten it the entire time he was conducting this chore and groaning at himself for having done so. He looked at Orisa and considered finishing then and there, but he felt compelled to not leave any stone unturned.

"Almost forgot," he said, taking a long drag from his cigarette before throwing it over the cliff. "You haven't seen the Residential Wing. Let's go."

He turned on his heel and began walking towards that part of the base. Orisa snapped her eyes to him and back to the cliff edge over the water. Without further ado, she twirled her large legs around and began following Nathan.

"You know, smoking is bad for you," she blurted out, trying to be helpful. "And so is littering."

"Quit that shit."

* * *

It only took minutes for Nathan and Orisa to reach the Residential Wing – the last section of the Watchpoint he hasn't shown her, yet – coming across rows of hallways and corridors with doors spread throughout. In all honesty, there wasn't much to show here unless he wanted to violate someone's privacy.

"And here are the personal quarters," Nathan said, waving his hand at them. "Where the people sleep."

"So, has everyone on this base been sleeping here?"

"Not everyone, but a lot of them."

"Where is your room, Nathan?"

Nathan looked at her for a moment as if to contemplate whether it would be a good idea to tell her where he slept but stepped into the halls, the big omnic in tow. He didn't say anything else as he walked across the hall and passed dozens of doors, not needing to comment on any of them. Orisa, conversely, scanned each door, examining all the decorations that were on them. All of them varied and following a general theme appointed by their owner. Nathan recognizing who the doors belonged to by glancing at some of them. His door was easy to spot as it was completely devoid of decorations and just had the basic grey-metal color the door naturally had.

"Here it is," the occupant said as he stepped forward and slid it open, revealing his room to the guest.

Orisa peaked in, needing to duck down to get a proper look through the doorway.

"Cozy. Things here are quite clean and orderly, Mr. Brin. Efi's room is not nearly as neat as this," Orisa complimented.

"Kids…" the older man shook his head as he grabbed the handle and slid the door closed. "Alright, that's everything. Nothing else to see on this here base. Any questions?"

"Yes, how much closer am I to achieving forgiveness?"

"You wanna tip, then?"

"Yes, please."

"Stop asking that. It's just going to make it harder."

"Oh, I see. Well, thank you for taking me on this tour, Mr. Brin! I have learned much while following you."

"I'm sure you have. Now, what?"

"I must return to Winston's lab for a further debriefing from Athena."

"Err, I gotta head back there, too. Forgot to drop off the holopad. Fine, let's go."

They went, Nathan walking ahead of her and Orisa being in tow. Already halfway down the hallway to the exit. Orisa's metal hooves fell against the floor, more than noticeable for the human, especially as she was walking rather close to him.

"You don't need to walk so close to me, y'know?" Nathan started, looking over his shoulder. "You're like a lost puppy."

Then, as they passed one of the quarters, a muffled shriek accompanied by the sound of multiple things being thrown and dropped to the floor came from their right. Looking for the source of the noises, their eyes landed on the door with pink bunny decals all over it. Nathan wondered what was happening in her room this time.

"Ahh! Get away!" he heard the kid scream. "Get off me!"

Her choice of words and the desperate tone in her voice made his blood chill, and it wasn't long before he pulled out his sidearm to rush through the door. The omnic by his side seeing what he was doing and following suit, her right-hand charging.

"Kid?!" Nathan called out as he slammed the door open and barged in with his P320 up, naturally in a shooting stance and ready to wipe the floor with anyone hurting her. Sweeping his muzzle across the room to find a threat and neutralize it with half-a-dozen rounds of .45 ACP. However, even with his rage-induced tunnel vision, he found no one else inside Hana's room except for Hana herself, standing on her bed and backing herself into a corner as she stared at the floor. Her eyes as wide as plates and trembling.

Seeing her like that, not being in any immediate danger, Nathan quickly calmed down before he sighed and holstered his sidearm.

"Ms. Song, do you require any assistance?" Orisa asked, her gun-hand locked and loaded.

"Kid, what's wrong?" Nathan asked, waving to Orisa to put her hand down.

He took a step forward, closer to her desk, looking around at his feet to see what she was looking at. Hana kept staring at the floor, specifically near her desk. She pointed at it, her finger trembling.

"Spider! There!" her voice shook.

Nathan frowned.

"A spider? Really?"

"Yes, a big-ass spider! There, under the desk!"

"Okay, what do you want me to do?"

"Get rid of it! What else, dude?!"

She was too stricken by fear to notice Nathan close his eyes to frown even more, before shaking his head and crouching down to her desk. Flipping his Pip-Boy's light on, he began scouring the floor and the desk, trying to find the spider she was raving about. Having to maneuver a bit under the small space. While he did that, someone was running through the hall until they stopped, and Mei popped in through the doorway.

"Hana, are you alright? I heard loud noises," she said before she looked up and noticed the huge omnic in the room. "Huh?"

"Hello, Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou! I am Orisa!" the quadrupedal omnic was quick to greet, waving her hand.

"From Numbani? What are you doing here?"

"I have been sent here by my creator to learn how to work alongside the likes of Overwatch and bolster my programming."

"Okay, what are you doing in Hana's room?"

"Assisting Mr. Brin in dislodging an apparent infestation in Ms. Song's residence."

"What infestation?"

As soon as she asked that, Nathan turned his eyes to the roof of the desk and finally spotted the spider that got Hana all riled up. Seeing it cowering in a corner. He reached over to that corner and scooped it into his hands. With that taken care of, he got out from under the desk and was about to stand up until he looked up and noticed the holoscreens on her computer desk. Seeing multiple images for "vintage" music from the early-2000's. He cocked his head but thought nothing more of it as he stood up.

"Got it," he declared.

Hearing that, Hana breathed a huge sigh of relief and sat down at the edge of her bed. Unfortunately for her, thinking the room was free of the arachnid, she opened her eyes and saw it still alive and sitting in the middle of Nathan's hand. It covered almost the entirety of his huge palm. She shrieked once more and jumped up onto her bed, scrambling to gain distance in the corner.

"I thought you said you got it?!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah! I have it in my hand," he responded, rubbing his finger into his ear to get the ringing out.

He soon turned his attention back to the spider in his hand and examined it further, the sandy-brown creature with speckled black spots over its thorax and long legs spanning his hand. From the color alone, he could tell it was from an arid climate, but he's never seen a spider like this. Then, as one of his fingers twitched, the large spider started running across his forearm. Nathan and Orisa observing with interest, the human feeling its spindly legs stick to his skin as it ran. Hana almost about to pass out from that sight.

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! EW! EW! EW! EW! EW!" she screamed into her pillow.

"He's fast for his size," Nathan noted, bringing his left hand in front of the spider and having it run across his left arm before returning his right hand to it, repeating the process as it kept moving until it stopped. When it did, Nathan brought his hand up to his face, taking a look at the finer details of the spider. "Any of you know what type of spider this is?"

Mei got close and looked at the spider for herself, adjusting her glasses.

"May I?" she asked, holding her hand out next to Nathan's while she gently guided the spider to her palm. Hana's horror not faltering as she watched Mei bring her face closer to examine it for herself. "It's beautiful," she said, smiling at the little thing with long legs. "But I'm afraid I don't know spiders as well as I do Arctic and Antarctic Wildlife."

This time, it was Orisa's turn to take a gander at the spider, her large upper body bending down to Mei's hand. As she examined it, her pupils became gradually smaller and smaller, focusing on what she was looking at.

"According to Google, it appears to be an Australian Huntsman," she began to explain. "Their leg spans can grow up to 15 cm in length and prefer living in dark crevices, such as under wood bark or rock. They are found frequently inside homes, however."

"Australia?!" Hana then exclaimed, everyone looking at her. "Of course, it's from Australia, but what is it doing in my room?!"

Nathan looked at the Australian spider, and despite how it encompassed his palm when he held it, it was still small enough to fit in tight spaces. Most likely a hitchhiker who came here riding along someone's back from its home. Although, one would have to have pretty poor hygiene to just have a spider of this on them when traveling. So, he knew who it was.

"Fawkes…" he growled, already stomping out of the room to give the Junker a stern speech about cleaning up his own shit so he doesn't have to deal with it.

Going outside and heading down the hall, he heard Orisa trot up to his side. Then, to his surprise, Mei ran up to them as well.

"Where are we going?" the omnic asked.

"Jamison Fawkes," he clarified.

"The junker?" Mei asked, her face shifting into disgust while she cupped the Huntsman in her hands. "Ugh! Of course, it would be him. So, inconsiderate and rude."

Nathan glanced at the usually cheery and pleasant climatologist when she uttered that, not really blaming her to have such an opinion about such a person. Although, it still was a bit unexpected.

A couple minutes later, the three went to the opposite wing of the base, more sparsely populated than the others. The area was like the storage room but was somehow more barren with only a few scattered supplies and crates that no one wanted. However, there was a garage door at the end they were walking to, decorated with crude drawings and stickers that only a Junker could put up. Topped with a crusty, old welcome mat at the foot of the door. Loud music being heard on the other side.

"Whose residence is this?" Orisa questioned.

"This is Junkrat's hole," Nathan answered, standing in front of the door and raising a fist.

He pounded into the garage door, making it rattle with every knock. No response. So, he did it again, rapping on the sheet metal door to get the Junker's attention. Again, no response.

"Fawkes, open up, it's Brin!" Nathan exclaimed, pounding on the door even harder for the third time. Garnering no response.

"He probably can't hear us," Orisa observed.

Growling and having enough, Nathan bent down to the handle of the garage door and lifted it up, opening the door and revealing the pigsty inside. However, his eyes widened as he realized he was staring down the barrel of a cannon. In a split second, the end of the cannon lit up like a sun, but Nathan was pushed to the side. Falling on his face, he heard a loud boom and his ears started to ring profusely, not able to hear anything else after. Instantly clutching his ears, he could barely hear his own yell as he winced and curled up on the ground. Feeling the wind taken out of him, he looked up and saw the golden aura of Orisa standing where he was, a cloud of black smoke dissipating around her as she herself didn't have so much as a scratch. He felt the ground shake when someone ran over to him and crouched over him, being met with Junkrat's ashy visage.

"Oh, God, mate! Mate! Are you alright!" the Junker yelled into him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him.

"What?!" Nathan yelled back, not hearing a thing.

"Oh my God, I made him differently-abled!" Junkrat exclaimed, before holding up three metal fingers. "Quick, mate! How many fingers am I holding?"

Nathan narrowed his eyes at the fingers and at Jamison, before just snarling and flipping his middle finger back at him. All the concern and worry the Junker had was washed away, now squinting at the man he nearly exploded.

Jamison also wasn't prepared for the swift and powerful swipe he received from behind, knocked into a nearby corner and not having enough time to recover before a large gun was shoved into his face. Looking up to see Orisa staring him down with her eyes as slits. His face recoiling in disgust.

"Oi, who brought the bloody Wom?!" he cried out.

"I am an OR-15 – designation "Orisa" – designed by the City of Numbani and Efi Oladele, and I am detaining you for destructive behavior on behalf of Overwatch!" she exclaimed, making her gun spin and click in his face.

"'On behalf of Overwatch'?! You've got to be kidding! I knew their standards really dipped when they hired us blokes but bringing on a death machine like you?! Now that's a sick joke," he taunted. "Now, I'm starting to regret this partnership."

However, before she could do anything, chains rattled as a large hook wrapped around her upper body before the chains rattled more and she was pulled away from Junkrat and into Roadhog's fist.

"Back off," the pig-masked man growled.

Held there in a vise by the large human, she looked at him in surprise but quickly slammed his hand away and hopped back a few feet to put some distance between themselves. Her legs digging into the concrete while she took a defensive stance.

"Mako 'Roadhog' Rutledge!" she identified, her eye-slits becoming thinner. "Wanted by the Mexican Government and LumériCo for the bounty of $25,000,000!"

"Try me," Roadhog responded, tightening the grip around his hook.

The two of them were getting ready to throw down.

Thankfully, they were interrupted when boots came running down the hall and around a dozen Overwatch guards ran in with their weapons up. Immediately pointing them at the Junkers.

"Fawkes, Rutledge! Hands up, now!" ordered the leader of the security detail, a plainly clothed Fareeha Amari with a rifle in her hands and a combat helmet over her head – not having enough time to even get her Raptora suit on. Her rifle firmly trained on the fat one while her team handled the rest.

Rutledge cast a glance to her before looking at Orisa in front of him. Heaving a heavy groan under his mask, the large man dropped his weapons and put his hands, having gone through this so many times before. Fawkes did the same but was clearly annoyed that he had to.

"Oi, we weren't doing anything wrong! I was just conducting an experiment!" he defended himself.

"What?" Amari growled at him.

"I was setting up and testing a booby-trap that I was going to use just in case we got home invaders," he proudly explained himself, baring a confident smile until it went away a second later. "Well, I also did accidentally lock myself in my room with a booby trap that would've activated if I opened the door, but no worries! As I tried to devise a way out, ol' Nate-O over there got me out."

She squinted before looking to the side and seeing Nathan on the floor, clutching his head as Mei tried to help him. Snapping her eye back to Jamison and keeping her rifle sights trained on him, she really wanted to just shoot him, then and there. However, she groaned and let her rifle down, before gesturing to the others.

"Bring these two to the cellblock and tell Winston what happened," she ordered, the security-team then restraining the Junkers and marching them to the cells.

"I told him it was a bad idea, you know," Mako tiredly said as he was escorted with guards around him.

"You've got no proof!" Jamison yelled.

Fareeha rolled her eyes as she walked over to Nathan and bent down to help him.

"You all right?" she asked, clasping one hand around his to hoist him up.

"My ears are fucking ringin' and I felt like I fell into the Grand Canyon," he responded, wincing as he snapped his fingers next to his make sure he could still hear. "But, yeah, I'll live."

"Are you sure? Do you need me to get Angela?"

"I'm fine. No need to bother her, now."

She was a bit unconvinced, even as they helped the tall Waster get to his feet but decided to not act further. He already had a lot to deal with for today, it seems.

"Fine, but don't fall dead the minute I walk away, okay? Wouldn't want another drinking buddy gone."

"You got it."

She curled one corner of her lip before turning around and slinging the rifle over her shoulder. Leaving the others in front of the garage door.

After that, Nathan steadied himself and stood fully straight up without needing any help. His head not hurting as much just a couple minutes earlier, he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

"I'm gonna go to my room and fuckin' rest for a while. I still got shit to do," he told them, then walking away after he did. "See ya'."

"Do you require any assistance for your task?" Orisa asked.

"No."

"I see, then thank you, Nathan, for bringing me on your tour!"

He lazily waved to her without turning, walking to the exit out of this wing and wanting to catch his breath. However, he stopped for a second as he realized what was offered to him by her – a large quadrupedal machine bigger than him and could easily lift twice her weight if the situation depended on it. She was sent here to learn, wasn't she? It may have been not what Efi had in mind, but maybe Brigitte would be a good teacher on her craft.

"Hey, Orisa. Actually…" Nathan began turning around. "Wanna make yourself useful?"

Orisa's eyes lit up even more.

Meanwhile, Mei looked around at the floor. Looking for something. "Umm, where's the spider?"


	55. All Shook Up

"Look, another one," Jack Morrison pointed a red finger to a set of footprints in the dirt. Easily twice the size of a normal person's footprints and heavily embedded into the dirt.

Walking over, Ana Amari, draped in her hood and mask, crouched to his side and examined the footprints for herself. With a tap of her temple, the mask opened, and her one eye scanned the footprint. Although it lost some of its definition from the wind, it was obvious whoever came through here was wearing a very large suit of armor. And they trekked all the way from the old Watchpoint and through the desert in it. Two of them.

"Do you recognize these footprints?" Ana asked.

"Nope," Jack shook his head. "Never seen this model before. One that lets them trek across an entire damn desert."

"Talon?"

"Maybe, but that doesn't explain this."

He then pointed a red finger to another set of tracks, much smaller and lighter than the big boot. They belonged to an animal, a dog. These tracks also trailed all the way from the Watchpoint. However, it wasn't just the mere presence of dog tracks that threw them off, but it was also the presence of another set of dog tracks accompanying them, where three of the four pawprints weren't normal and looked like they were mechanical claws. The only normal thing they found in the dirt was one set of tracks made by a person's boots, telling them that this group consisted of 5-6 individuals, including the dogs.

They followed these all the way from Watchpoint: Groom Lake, after seeing the destruction of the Western portion of that base for themselves. Ground zero being the building that was vaporized to oblivion. Since everything was under tons of rubble or surrounded by a heavy U.S. Military presence, they couldn't find much. However, there was another deterrent they didn't expect to find.

"That building site was a branch of the R&D department for Groom Lake, so Talon must have been doing something in there," the ex-Strike-Commander said, looking back at the direction they came from.

"What exactly happened in there before they took it over?" Ana asked.

"Classified."

Ana just cast an unamused look at him, resulting in Jack to chuckle under his mask.

"Advanced aircraft, satellite surveillance, weapon prototypes, and the  _Slipstream_ , to name a few," he listed off. "But never anything on the scale of a tactical nuke, which seems responsible for the  _radiation_  there."

"Which also explains why Talon cleared house," Ana added but looked down at the tracks with uncertainty. "But why are these out in the desert?"

"They were probably running away from something. Maybe running away from Talon."

"So, you think whoever made these were prisoners or enemies of Talon?"

"Who busted out in unknown Power Armor with two dogs and glassed a section of the base in the process. That's what I think, at least."

Ana frowned, only having assumptions and vague ideas to go by from following this trail of prints. She looked around from where they were, the Mojave sky starting to get dark. Then, her veteran eye spotted something in the distance, under an alcove created by a lone boulder in the middle of the open desert field. She gestured to Morrison and they quickly made their way down the mountain to where the rock was. Reaching it, they then found the remains of a campsite, with a dead campfire and disturbed ground signifying a group had sheltered here for a while. Looking around, Morrison spotted more tracks, the two then followed these tracks out. They matched with what they were tailing for the past day from Groom Lake and followed them to the old road that was a ways from the rock.

"This is Interstate 95," Jack said when they reached the concrete. "People barely use these roads, anymore, ever since flying cars and hypertrains took over."

"I can tell," Ana replied, staring off in both directions the cracked road went to, seeing nothing remarkable on either of them. To the side, she saw something metal glint in the dirt and walked over to see a highway sign for the interstate. The paint fading as the sign itself was dented and rusted, with a couple charming bullet holes. "Gangs still use these roads because of the desolation, don't they?"

"Yup."

"Hmph, well, now our trail's gone cold. I don't see any other tracks on this old road."

"Hold up."

Ana perked a brow and watched as her partner walked to the other side of the road. His red eye examining something in the concrete, crouching down to it. The Sniper watched his back as he did so, but he waved her over and went to his side to see what he was looking at.

Skid marks, from a wheeled car.

"Hmm, vintage."

* * *

Goodsprings, Nevada, Mojave Desert

2076

Senior's residence had fallen under a deep silence when their guests had returned from their short little escapade into town. Leaving in a panicked frenzy. Also, catching the attention of a few of the resident townsfolk in this dusty little berm. It was more attention than they asked for.

The house kept quiet as everyone retreated into the kitchen. The guests sitting on one side of the table while Jennette sat on the other. Veronica, being the one who came across the discovery that made them run across town, sat silently between Craig and Parmley. Nestling a cup of coffee that the omnic graciously offered to her. She declined wanting anything else, even breakfast. Sipping the coffee helped keep her mind awake, at least.

Everyone's attention then shifted the doorway when Senior walked into the room, shotgun in hand. He set the gun against the kitchen counter and went to the coffee pot, quickly pouring himself a cup before he turned around and sat down on the chair next to Jennette. After he took a very generous sip from the mug, he bared a very stern expression on his wrinkled face. Directing it at their guests.

"What the hell was that all about?" he growled, making them all look up at him.

"Clark-"

"No, Jennette, these people came into our house, slept in John's room, and literally caused a ruckus first thing in the morning over a damn sign! I don't care if they 'saved' us the night before, I want a goddamn answer before I do anything else with them."

"Clark, Joseph might hear us if you keep yelling! He's going to get worried."

"He should be! I've told him we can't trust these hero-types – Overwatch or otherwise! All they do is bring trouble to ordinary people like us or get themselves killed trying. They were supposed to clean up the Deadlock Gang years ago but haven't! What are they ever going to do for us, folks in the middle of nowhere?"

He leaned back into his chair, more than flustered, looking back to his coffee with just a scowl. Jennette sat there and looked at him before she reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. Clark barely reacting to that.

"Maybe we can start by giving you an answer," Veronica said, making them look up. "I think it's overdue by this point."

"Oh, yeah?" Senior said, arching an eyebrow. "Why don't you start by telling us where the hell you're from?"

Despite initially offering to answer, Veronica seized up and grimaced. Knowing from everything that they've witnessed, it was obvious that they were not in their own world, anymore. The technology, the setting, and even the people.  _Especially_  the people. In an alternate Goodsprings in an alternate Nevada in an alternate America on an alternate Earth. No scientific marvel or mystery coming close to the very journey they had partaken in and where it brought them. And she had to explain all of that to some poor folks living in a small town. Even for an ex-Scribe, that proved hard to muster.

"They're from out West," Jennette said, trying to lighten the tension. "That's what her friends told me during breakfast."

"No, that's not entirely true," Veronica said, casting her head up from her coffee.

They looked at her, making her feel a little uneasy to elaborate. She wanted to lie, to tell them something that would satisfy them and let her, and her friends, still pursue their mission. Something that wasn't as mind-blowing or as asinine as the truth. What right did she have to tell them the things she was about to? Come into their homes and start going on like some vagabond on chems, except everything she witnessed was 100% truth. There wasn't going to be an easy way to break this to the family who might kick them out the second she tells the truth.

But like Nathan, she went forward with it.

"We're from a different world," was the bluntest, and possibly tamest, way she could put it. But she still managed to sound asinine in the process.

Senior and Jennette stared at the woman, their gazes stuck on her for moments after she spoke. Then, the old man just shook his head.

"Yeah, right," he vehemently dismissed. "Don't bullshit me, where are you really from?"

"California," Boone answered suddenly, making Veronica look at him.

"Figures. Why are you trying to lie, lady-?"

"New California Republic," Boone then continued, making the old man stop to process the words he just spoke. "Enlisted with the 1st Reconnaissance Sniper Battalion of the New California Republic Army. Serial Number: 55-242-975; Rank of Corporal. Sir."

The Sniper then just stared at the old man as he pulled off his beret and threw it across the table. Senior grabbed the red beret and looked down to see the patch of his battalion. Two rifles crossed behind a skull with the motto "The Last Thing You Never See" below it and "NCR Recon 1st" above. It looked weathered and authentic as if it had been through several tours. Senior looking up at him in confusion.

Then, Parmley stood up.

"Private Parmley, New California Republic Rangers, 3rd Battalion, Bighorner Company, 5th Platoon. Stationed at Ranger Station Charlie close to Novac, off I-95, sir," the Ranger sounded off, stiff as a board.

"I-95? Wait- Wha- What are you-?"

" _Bark!_ " Rex suddenly let out, making everyone look at him, especially the hosts.

Looking at him and reaffirming that he wasn't like most dogs. Never even hearing of an actual "cyberdog" in any sense of the word. Especially as his brain floated around in a dome of what might as well be mystery liquid to them. Almost otherworldly.

"We were sent here by friends in an advanced research facility called 'Big Mountain'," Veronica continued, not wanting to stop. "They sent us here to find our friend, who used a device that apparently teleported him to this world. Our friend is what you guys refer to as 'The Man in Black Armor'. We're trying to find him and bring him back home."

Even after giving him the answer he asked for, Senior and Jennette just stared at them. A beyond dumbstruck expression on the old man.

"Wait a fucking minute!" he said, holding up his hands and rocketing up from his chair. "If you're from a different world, then why the hell do all of you look like normal people? How the hell do you know what Nevada and California are? Why are all of you speaking English?!"

"Let me rephrase it then: Alternate Dimension," Veronica stated, with a straight face. "We're from Earth, it's just…  _Different_ from this Earth, somehow. We're from America, albeit, the charred, nuclear remains of what used to be the Western United States. Back home, it's the year 2285. 208 years after the Great War that sent everything back to the Stone Age… What year is it here?"

"2076…" Jennette answered, bringing a hand up to the collar of her shirt. "Great…  _War_?"

"And so far, this place looks nothing like the Pre-War America we know."

"How do you know?" the old man was quick to question, leaning forward on the table and looking at her straight in the eye.

The ex-Scribe looked at her coffee, trying to think of what else to say. Thinking back to the old history books she read in her free time when her ex-Brothers and Sisters weren't annoying her about it.

"How many Commonwealths are in America, right now?" she asked, straight-faced, again.

"'Commonwealths'?" Senior asked. "I don't know what you're-"

"Did America repel the Chinese from Anchorage, yet?"

"Chinese? What-?!"

"Did America invade mainland China, yet? Is the European Commonwealth now in ruins? Has Canada been annexed? How long has the United Nations been dissolved?!"

Veronica was practically yelling by this point, too, standing up from her seat and leaning onto the table as she stared at Senior. An almost deranged look on her face after she asked those questions, not wanting the correct answer but  _their_ answer, to confirm if her suspicions are true. Senior was too taken aback to respond in time.

"No," Jennette answered for him, placing another hand on his shoulder as she leaned in. "America never invaded China, the European  _Union_  is still intact, Canada still has sovereignty, and the United Nations has  _not_  been disbanded."

"So, it's true, then. We're in an alternate dimension," Veronica said, receiving the answer. "And an alternate Goodsprings."

She sat back down in her chair, her expression blank as the empty table in front of them, feeling all the energy get sucked out of her from that little tirade. Her head spinning in circles. Boone and Parmley immediately went to comfort her or at least trying. Meanwhile, Jennette tried to do the same for Senior.

"She's like Tracer, then," they suddenly heard someone speak, snapping their heads to Joseph standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Joseph, please-" his grandfather started but got interrupted.

"She was gone for a while after the Slipstream broke, wasn't she? Maybe that's what happened to her. She talked about feeling like she was in different places before Winston got her out. What else would've happened?"

"It does explain all the strange things they have with them," Jennette said in a hushed tone. "Also explains why there were out in the middle of nowhere when you found them. Not to mention, they seemed clueless about certain things when I talked to them earlier, even Overwatch. All of them, not just Veronica. And none of them seem like they're out of it, Clark."

Clark looked at her, his eyes addressing her metal features. Then, looking at the red beret he was still clutching between his hands.

"I still can't fucking believe any of this," he said, but not nearly as dismissive as before. Sounding more tired than frustrated. "And even if everything they said was true, how the hell am I supposed to help them? I can't exactly DM Overwatch, and even if I could, that's a lot of potential skin off my back."

"You don't have to contact them or take us to them, directly," Veronica said. "We just want to be pointed in the right direction of finding our friend. I promise we'll find a way to be out of your hair as soon as possible. We'll leave Goodsprings to find him."

"Yeah, and how far will that get ya'? Do you even know how to drive?"

"We can walk."

Senior scoffed, getting up from his chair and unable to believe anything he heard over the past couple of minutes. He began pacing around the kitchen, though, thinking over what he should do with them. One moment, he thought about calling the Feds and letting them be the Law's problem. Another moment, he thought of grabbing the shotgun on the counter and running them out of his house and out of town. Next moment, he looked at his grandson and saw him looking up at him with expecting eyes. He didn't like "heroes" like his grandson, but they were still here because of them.

Their thoughts were disturbed as someone knocked on his front door, everyone becoming quiet the second after. Senior looked at everyone before walking towards the door.

"Stay here," he told their guests.

The knocking persisted until he got to the front door and opened it to reveal a man in a khaki uniform, a utility belt with a gun around his waist, a big brimmed hat on his head, and a shiny seven-pointed star on his left breast. The man was younger than the old man but still seemed older than most, around middle-age. Behind him was the black-and-white squad car, parked and floating in front of the porch.

"Billy?" Senior said, his face scrunching up.

"Howdy, old man," the local Sheriff greeted.

"The hell do you want?" Senior questioned, his eyes squinting under the sun.

"I got called here for a disturbance. Apparently, folks saw a group of strangers start running around town, causing a commotion of things up by the road. Was told they were around your house."

"Why the hell would anyone call  _you_?"

The Sheriff frowned a little but did a good job suppressing it. Trying to, at least. Meanwhile, Veronica and some of the others crept along the hallway, keeping their backs to the wall as they inched closer to the door. Eavesdropping on what was happening outside. Aware they were the reason for the Sheriff's appearance.

"Listen, if there's any trouble around here, I should know where it is. The sooner I know, the sooner we can get rid of it and keep the town relatively peaceful. For everyone's sake," he reasoned.

"Jesus, Billy! Is that what you think?" Senior raised his voice.

"I'm just looking out for everyone else. This town and everyone in it has been through enough, and we don't outside trouble messing it up. Clark, just-"

"Don't call me that. You lost that privilege a long time ago."

The way he spoke to him let Veronica know Billy wasn't welcomed to his house. As she listened, she began to feel sorry that she and her friends were the reason they were going through this. That little stunt they pulled drawing attention in more ways than one. Wishing she could be out of their hair as soon as possible. For a second, she considered going out there and just alleviating this situation, talking to the Law Enforcement authority herself.

Peeking around the corner for a moment, she looked back to her friends beside her.

"Okay, if the situation out there gets any worse, we'll just go out there and talk to him," Veronica said to them. "The sooner we're out of these poor folks' hair, the better. Besides, that Sheriff might be able to help us find Overwatch and lead us to him if we help."

"Uh-uh," she watched Joseph shake his head. "The law doesn't take kindly to Overwatch or folks like you. You'll get arrested if they think you're with them," he whispered to her.

"What? Why? I thought they were heroes?"

"They used to be, but a lot of people didn't like them anymore, so they broke up. Back when I was still a baby."

"Wait, then why do I keep hearing about some Overwatch group now? The one my friend's with?"

"That's the  _New_  Overwatch, but they're not as big as they used to be. They're not even supposed to be a thing."

"What do you mean?"

"They're illegal," Jennette answered. "They're not an officially recognized organization. They're rogue, not working or fighting for anyone. Not recognized by the U.N. or anyone else. And they've been in the news a lot because of it."

'Even in another world, Nathan finds fitting company,' Veronica thought, almost amused if it weren't for the implications that brought with it.

Unfortunately, the noises down the hall brought them back to the conversation at the front door. Things becoming more unpleasant as it went on, Senior getting more tired of the Sheriff's presence by the second. However, Veronica had a feeling this was more than just animosity towards law enforcement that seemed to be getting the old man worked up.

"Look, I'm just trying to work with the hand that's been given to me," Sheriff Billy said. "As much as I want this to change, they're not going anywhere anytime soon. And they've done more for this town than anyone else in the past ten years. Not even Vegas gave as much of a damn about us as them."

"That's what you want Goodsprings to be known for? A hovel for those highwaymen? Do you even hear yourself?!"

"No, but nobodies gotten hurt in a long time and I want to keep it that way."

"Yeah, that you know of. They're snakes, Billy, and you're taking them for their word."

"What? Do you think I can take them all down? Bring out my badge and make them put their hands up? I don't have the metropolitan police behind me, I'm just one of a few that's still even around here. You know the LVMPD is too chickenshit to do anything, anyway. They might gather up all their friends, again. And remember what happened the last time we tried to stand up to them?"

Senior was quiet when he asked, but his hands balled into fists so tight that his old knuckles turned even whiter. Veronica easily imagining what his expression currently was as she saw the Sheriff's blood run cold.

"Shit, I-I didn't mean it like that. I-I'm sorry. I-"

"John would be ashamed to see what happened to you," Clark coldly said to him, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Look, I can't just go and risk the lives of a few good men and women to take them on. I'm trying to take care of everyone. I'm not a goddamn super soldier."

"He wasn't any of those things, but he had more balls than you ever will."

The Sheriff's mouth went agape, unblinking as he looked at Senior, who stood there as solid as stone. They stood in silence, neither of them saying anything to the other, almost quiet enough to hear the breath of the ones hiding.

"Get the fuck off my porch," Senior demanded.

Billy glanced at him one more time before sighing and turning around, walking back to his patrol car.

"I tried to help ya', you know," he said, before getting to his car.

The next minute or so was silent as Senior kept standing in the doorway and watched as the Sheriff got into his car. Eventually, the car began to move and pull away from his house. Veering into a road and driving away.

Clark was silent for the few moments he stood there before he closed the door and turned to walk into the hallway. When he reached the intersection of his house, he saw everyone standing in the hallway to the kitchen, having just listened to their entire conversation. Veronica the closest to the corner against the wall.

"Hey, I'm…" she started to apologize.

"I don't want to hear it," he dismissed her, walking away and going to the opposite hall, where his room was. "I want you out of my house by tomorrow morning."

"What?! But we just got here!"

"And in that time, you've already caused more trouble than you're worth. Haven't even been here for a full day and the town's already being threatened by a band of outlaws."

"We didn't mean for this to happen."

"Hero-types never do, yet here we are."

"We're just trying to find our friend!" Veronica suddenly burst out, her own patience starting to run thin in the morning.

Her sudden outburst made Senior pause for a moment and look over his shoulder towards her.

"Then go find him," he said, saying nothing else as he walked away.

Veronica didn't know what else to say when he went to his room and closed the door. Sensing that the old man now wanted nothing to do with them. As she stood there, staring at the hallway, Boone walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay," he assured. "We got this far, we don't need his help. He sure as hell didn't want any of ours."

"I'm sorry, Veronica," Jennette then walked up to her, grabbing her shoulders. "He's usually like that every time  _he_  comes around. They have bad history between each other. Only got worse when the gangs started rolling around and after…"

The machine hesitated, dipping her head as she thought of what to say next.

"Well, I'm sure you heard all of it," was all she wanted to say about that. "Look, I'll try to talk to him. Wouldn't be right to just leave of all you out there, even if y'all seem like trouble. Please, stay here."

Jennette left her side and walked over to Senior's room, knocking and calling to him. The door opened, and she glanced to the group of Wastelanders before going inside. The door closed after she went.

"You're not going to leave, right?" Joseph asked all of them, worried that they might be gone the next day. "All of you just got here, and I have so many cool questions to ask you guys. I've never met interdimensional travelers, before!"

"Sorry, kid," Parmley said, crouching down to his eye-level. "Your old man doesn't seem to want us here."

"That sucks. I thought you guys would come here to take care of Deadlock once and for all."

The Ranger regarded the little boy sadly before sighing and patting one hand on his shoulder before standing up.

"I guess that's it, then," he said, hands on his hips. "Expected our welcome here to last a little longer, but… Eh. So, what's the plan now?"

"We're not leaving," Veronica said.

Both Boone and Parmley blinked, caught off guard by what she said. Only sounding defeated just a couple of moments, earlier. Then, she turned around, her face as sure as anything. Despite what the situation had turned into prior, seeing that face helped set Boone a little at ease.

"We're staying, and we're helping," Veronica clarified, putting her foot down. "Because I think we just found a way to earn the old man's trust."

"What?" Parmley asked.

Veronica smiled as she crouched down to eye-level with Joseph.

"This town is being preyed upon by bandits, right?" she asked.

"Yeah!" Joseph nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. "They've been around for years, always bullying me and grandpa. You were there!"

"'Deadlock', right?"

"Yeah! Grandpa says they deal in 'arms-trafficking', whatever that means. They always ride on motorcycles too. They're always loud even though they don't use gas."

"Hmm, I take it they don't hang around town? Where is their base?"

"I don't know. Grandpa might, though."

Upon hearing that, Veronica stood up and looked to opposite end of the house. Without hesitating, she took one step forward but was stopped as Boone reached out and grabbed her elbow.

"Wait, are you sure about this? This all seems a bit sudden," he said.

"Boone, we can't just leave town with no idea where to go, and we can't just leave the old man, him, and this town to deal with those thugs," she responded, gesturing her head to the child with them. "We won't be able to get far, but if we help them, we might. We rode into a town with a problem, a  _gang_ problem, and doesn't that sound like something up our alley."

"Hmph," the Sniper let her go. "We're just missing one more member."

Veronica smiled before turning around and walking to the room. Somewhat hesitantly, the others followed.

Reaching the door, she could hear Jennette and Senior talking, not arguing but having a very heated discussion from their tones, alone. She wrapped one hand around the doorknob and took a deep breath. Eventually, she twisted the knob and opened the door. When it swung open and she took one step inside the room, she was surprised to see Senior had already made his way to the door and was about to walk out into the hall. He was also surprised to see her at his door.

"Can't you knock? What do you want now-?"

"We'll take care of the gang for you," Veronica said, not missing a beat as she looked him dead in the eye.

Senior blinked.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard what I said; We'll take care of these 'Deadlock' bandits and free the town from them."

"…In exchange for what?"

"For your help, of course."

Senior frowned, but Veronica maintained her composure as she stood in front of him. Not backing down from her offer. His eyes drifted to see her friends standing with her, along with his grandson. Those two dogs standing beside him.

"What makes all of you think you got what it takes?" he questioned.

Veronica laughed, for the first time in what seemed like a while. She let out a genuine, hearty chuckle.

"Mister, even though you already don't, you wouldn't believe half of the things that we're used to fighting back home, especially when we were with 'The Man in Black Armor'," she said with a blatant smirk, noting how ridiculous that name was. "Crazed fanatic slavers, bands of raiders hopped on chems and all sorts of nasty stuff in between. I don't like bragging, but a bunch of convicts on motorcycles doesn't sound like much, especially with what we have. You already saw a small sampling of it."

Senior arched an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms over his chest. Despite standing in front of a band of Wasteland Veterans, the old man kept his composure as he frowned at all of them. Veronica worried that he was still going to say no in the back of her mind.

"Good," he said, making her feel relieved but then confused. "I was coming out here to ask you guys the same thing. Make all of you useful for once."

"Really? It's good to see we both share the same mindset when it comes to bandits," she said, smiling warmly. "You know where they are?"

"Nope, but I know someone who does, and he just left my front porch."

* * *

By the time the sun had gone down in the West, the little town reverted to its even quieter and sleepier self. Becoming even more of a ghost town when the few lights it had went dark. However, as natural as any other town, the saloon became the busiest part of this little place. The residents and townsfolk not having much of anything else to do with their pensions or measly wages in this dusty berm. As people walked or parked to get inside the old saloon and drink the night away, on the other side of the street, Clark and the Wasters waited in the dark. The Wasters gazed upon the saloon, seeing another familiar sight in this familiar town. Veronica preferred the flashier look of the saloon back home, staring at the words "Pioneer Saloon" painted in black across its adobe front. Flashes of the ruined Goodsprings they left appeared, but she didn't want to be pained by them for long.

Finally, after waiting for minutes, the black-and-white body of the patrol car that visited them earlier pulled up to the saloon. The driver's door opened, and the local Sheriff climbed out, unaware of the group spying on him before he climbed onto the saloon porch and went inside.

"Bastard always comes here to drink every damn night," Senior explains. "That's why I come here in the afternoons."

Checking the road, first, he walked out of cover with the others in tow. The sounds and smells of the saloon getting closer as they walked across the road. As they got within feet of the porch, neon party lights and the smell of stale wood brought them back to the Goodsprings  _they_  knew, oddly.

When Senior opened the door and they filed in, Veronica and Boone were hit with a wave of nostalgia and novelty. Parmley just hit with novelty, but a strange one. The interior layout was vastly different than the Prospector Saloon, with the bar immediately being seen on the left against a wall that separated the rooms. To the right of that, there was an assortment of chairs and tables. There were signs, pictures, and neon lights all over the walls and on the bar, an old jukebox or two posted at the end of the room, and dusty old ceiling fans hanging over everything at crawling speeds. It honestly startingly different from back home, the holographic cash registers posted along the bar and a large TV screen hanging in the corner playing what looked like a sports game in superb color and definition. The music that played was nothing like home but caught their interest all the same. The atmosphere was foreign but alien to them.

"The hell is that?" Boone frowned, hearing instrumentals that didn't sound like instruments.

Veronica was more enthusiastic about the foreign music.

"Hot damn, tourists!" they suddenly heard someone yell and looked to see an older, blonde woman tending the bar. Her eyes as bright as the neon with a big smile on her face. "And some handsome, young fellers, too! How can I help y'all?"

"They're with me, Trisha," the old man said, pointing to them. "Just gonna show them around, maybe get a drink or two for them."

"Ol' Senior with a bunch of young people? What's all this about?"

"You'll know soon enough, Trisha."

"Knowing you, that's as comforting as a prickly pear up my ass. Anyways, welcome. Holler if y'all want drinks, y'hear? Don't break anything."

"Well, that's a fine way to greet patrons," Veronica muttered, only her friends hearing what she said.

Following Senior, they went into the left portion of the saloon that was separated by the wall. There, they saw rows of booths along either side of the wall. Only a few of them were populated, and none of them seemed too energetic about anything even with their drinks. However, the locals cast their eyes up with noticeable interest and surprise as they noticed the trio of outsiders following one of their own. Senior leading them to a booth that was at the far end of the room. Occupied by one lone Sheriff, already guzzling on a large bottle of beer for himself. Too occupied with drinking, he didn't notice the group of people walk up to his booth until it was too late. His eyes practically bugging out of their sockets, gently setting the bottle of beer down.

"What…?"

"Brought you those people you wanted, Billy," Senior said, before sitting down right next to him in the booth. The Sheriff tried to scoot away from him, but the old man wrapped an arm around him and brought him close under an iron grip.

The Waster's exchanged glances with each other before they filed onto the seat opposite of them. When they all took their seats, Senior grabbed one of Billy's beer and took a swig from it.

"And they have an interesting proposition for you," he said to the Sheriff, before nodding to them.

"We rode into town and heard you have a bandit problem," Veronica said, being straightforward. "We want to take care of it for you."

The Sheriff frowned, looking at all of them with disbelief. Senior maintained that grip over him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Want something in return, of course," Veronica answered. "Money, maybe some supplies, a good word for us, and some directions if you would be so gracious to."

"Lady," he scoffed. "I don't even know who you or your friends are. I might as well arrest you for coercing a local civilian."

"Really? If you wanna discuss legalities, I'm pretty sure a Sheriff isn't supposed to have his gonads in a twist from the local biker gang."

The Sheriff quickly lost his smile.

"Now listen here," he spat out, pointing a finger at her. "If you do anything, they're gonna come down on this town and there'll nothing we can do about it. You don't know them, they outlasted even Overwatch! You'll just get yourselves killed!"

"That sounds oddly familiar," Veronica said, looking at Boone. "Well, you don't know us that well either. As I've told Senior, you won't believe half of the stuff we've gone through. If you tell us where these 'Deadlock' guys are holed up, we'll take care of them by next morning."

If it was any reality star bounty hunter or mercenary that rode into Goodsprings, sat him down, and told him the same thing, the Sheriff would've thought they were stupid and insane. However, when he looked into this strange woman's eyes, he saw an unrelenting confidence and satisfied stare. As if he was speaking to someone who knew what they were talking about, what they were offering, and what they were about to do. Just three random strangers who came from nowhere and wanting to be heroes.

"You're insane," Sheriff Billy said, albeit, somewhat convinced by her demeanor.

"You'd be more insane not to accept my help," Veronica responded. "We've taken jobs like this plenty of times before. For towns…  _Just_  like this one. We got the gear and the know-how."

"And what do I get, in return?"

"Umm… A town no longer being plagued by bandits? A significant decrease in organized crime? A Sheriff who isn't neutered? It seems pretty obvious, mister."

"But, if this all backfires it-"

"It won't. We'll be thorough."

"Again, who are you?"

Veronica exchanged glances with the other before she leaned in to get closer to him.

"Friends of 'The Man in Black Armor'," she whispered.

The Sheriff's face slowly but surely became pale, bright white even in the dim light of the bar. Any sense of doubt he had was now replaced by a palpable sense of fear and anxiety. More than a small-town Sheriff could handle.

"You're with Over-?"

"No, but we're friends of someone who ended up with them, somehow. But right now, we just want to scratch your back, so you can scratch ours. Deal?" Veronica smiled.

Billy was silent, with all eyes and Senior's arm around him. Three strangers who offered to take out the local Deadlock chapter for him and the town. Seemed too good to be true.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, caving in.

"Where this gang is so we can take 'em out," Veronica said.

"Well… They're holed up at an old prison just south of here, in Jean. It's been abandoned for decades until they moved in some years ago."

"Wait… Was it a correctional facility?"

"I think so, why?"

Veronica quickly exchanged glances with Boone before waving it off.

"Just wanted to clarify. So, how many are we expecting?"

"I've never been there myself, but my guess is there's a couple dozen of them. They like to harass other local towns, too. They also got their bikes and some trucks, maybe a couple of cars. I'm certain they have a lot of guns, though."

"That's fine. We got some stuff of our own, and then some."

"You're gonna take  _all_  of them on?"

"Yeah. Kinda what we do."

"Well, Jesus Christ, hey! If you do actually pull this off, the town and I will be grateful!"

"Just more of a reason for us to do it. Thanks. We'll be back, next thing in the morning."

With a thankful nod, the ex-Scribe, the Sharpshooter, and the Ranger got up from their seats and walked to the exit of the bar, leaving him and the other patrons in relative peace to get ready. Boone giving Veronica a slight nudge for their conversation back there, for once letting pride overcome his face. Veronica just chuckling a little, reminding herself of him.

"More balls than you," Senior said to the Sheriff before getting up from his seat and taking the beer with him. "Watch yourself."

They all eventually left, Sheriff Billy watching them go until they were gone. For a minute after they left, the Sheriff took several deep breaths, having not ingested nearly enough alcohol to wipe all the anxiety away. Then, he opened his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Casting another glance at the entrance to see if they were gone, he got up from his seat and went through the back of the saloon. Already dialing someone on his phone.


	56. Experience, Experienced

Cell Block, Watchpoint: Gibraltar

2076

"Oh, bother…" Junkrat said as he laid on the cold, concrete floor of his cell. Staring up at the equally cold and concrete ceiling with boredom. His legs casually crossed over each other, resting his mechanical hand over his stomach and his non-mechanical hand under his head. Laying there and doing nothing else, while some "visitors" stood at the other side of the hard glass wall keeping him locked in.

"You should be really ashamed of yourself, Fawkes!" lambasted Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou, one of the two standing outside his cell. Taking the time out of her day to reprimand the Junker, surprisingly.

Standing next to her was Security-Chief Fareeha, who offered to accompany the Climatologist on her "visit" to Jamison. However, she had her eyes more focused on Mei than the Junker because of how much her voice rose in just the past few minutes. Surprised to see her in such a state. Nonetheless, Amari kept her cool and watched.

"Your antics and reckless behavior easily could've gotten someone hurt or killed!" Mei went on, not simmering down. "It's no wonder Winston thought the best place to stick you was in that derelict garage space in the back of the base. Are you even listening?"

Mei pouted and crossed her arms, her frustration only mounting further with the Junker she was trying to shame. Jamison responded by taking in a deep breath and pivoting his body towards the glass, propping his head on one arm and splaying his legs like he was on a lounge chair.

"Yes?" he asked with an amused but relaxed smile, tapping his metal fingers across the floor.

"Honestly, I'm not surprised someone as boorish as you isn't taking this seriously," Mei admitted.

"'Boorish'? Me? Boorish?! Madame, if there is anything I know about myself, it is that I am a gentleman of unrivaled sophistication and taste. A gentleman trapped in the body of a slightly-deranged but brilliant Outback engineer who only got himself into a little snag in the creative process of one of my projects. Trust me, I'm as true-blue an Aussie as God will allow! Isn't that right, Roadie?"

He looked over to his cellmate, who was sitting on the only cot in the cell while reading a book that was too small to fit in his hands. Looking up from the book, he just looked at his partner with the blank stare of his gas mask until he unexcitingly gave one thumb up.

"See!" Jamison grinned as he pointed to him.

Fareeha and Mei looked at each other before Fareeha groaned and shook her head.

"Fawkes, personally, I couldn't care less for what you do in your own free time if the only person that gets hurt is yourself," she began. "But after witnessing the damage and disruption you were able to incur in such a short time, it is my duty as the Security-Chief to, from now on, supervise and restrict your…  _Projects_ … Accordingly. For the safety of everyone else on this base."

Junkrat rocketed up, startlingly fast, and sat crisscrossed on the floor as he looked up at them. No sign of humor upon his ashy, fiery face.

"What?" he asked, one eye twitching.

"You nearly killed someone," Fareeha stated the obvious.

"Yes, but is that really worth the price of stifling creativity? Of stifling innovation and progress? With all due respect, I think, I am a kindred spirit with an artistic ambition. One that requires – no – demands unbridled diligence to blossom and to benefit Overwatch. Otherwise, my work's shitless!"

"I highly doubt that…"

In the middle of their conversation, Nathan Brin entered the cell's view from their left and walked up behind Fareeha and Mei. He nodded to the two women.

"Hello, Nathan," Fareeha greeted. "What brings you here?"

"What else?" Nathan replied, looking at the cell.

"Friendly visit, I presume?"

"Just a visit," he narrowed his eyes towards the cell

For some reason, Junkrat's eyes lit up the second he saw the tall Waster.

"Mate, you're here!" Junkrat said, hopping onto his foot and peg to his full height, meeting him at eye level through the reinforced glass.

"Yes, I am," Nathan said.

"Phew, you had me seriously worried there for a second. See, he's completely fine! No scratches, dings, or bruises aside from the ones he already has. No thanks to the bloody, fat-arsed Wom, but still. Plus, he probably got to have a visit with that beaut of a doc, anyway, eh? Ehhhhh?" he nudged his elbow into the glass towards him.

"Fuck off."

"His sense of humor is intact, as well! See, everything's fine."

The three outside the cell exchanged glances with each other.

"Don't talk about Angela, that way," Mei was quick to scold.

"When she stops being a beaut I'll consider it," Junkrat replied, shrugging before he regarded Nathan with a loud smile. "So, mate, would you mind doing a favor for your top bloke and tell Chief Amari why I should continue my intellectual pursuits? Maybe convince her on a shorter sentence?"

"No," Nathan shook his head and squinted. "That is the complete opposite reason for why I'm here."

"Oh," the Junker hopeful expression dropped. "Then why are you here?"

"To tell you not to booby-trap your front door," Nathan admonished.

"Oh… Okay, yeah, I do agree there were better alternatives than the classic tripwire-wrapped-around-door-knob method. At least we know it works!"

Junkrat guffawed to himself and had a fun time, but he opened his eyes and saw an unamused expression on Nathan's face. Junkrat's laughter faltered for a few moments after, a few nervous chuckles until he stopped. Coughing into his mouth.

"But yeah, no. I'll stop rigging booby-traps to protect my personal quarters," he said, very unenthusiastically. "And to make sure no one gets accidentally blown up, again."

"Yes, and you're going to be under heavy supervision from now on, do you understand?" Security-Chief Fareeha said.

"Regrettably, so."

"Good. And just so you know, I already cleared this with everyone else. They think it's a good idea, too, so don't try to weasel them into agreeing with you. Even though that's highly unlikely, in the first place."

"Ah, a decision by committee. Almost as bad as a design by committee. It's good to see the leadership is impervious."

The Security-Chief kept frowning as she stepped away from the cell and looked at the Junker. She scoffed and walked away, going to the exit. Mei joined her, but not before giving Jamison another stern look. Nathan was about to go, as well, but stopped when he heard more noise coming from the cell.

"Pssst. Oi, Postie!" Jamison whispered to him.

"Don't call me that," Nathan turned around.

"Wanna do a little job for me? Won't take too long. Doesn't involve explosives… Directly."

"Yeah, right. As if you're forgetting the conversation we all had just a couple of moments, ago."

"I'll make it work your while. A pack of ice-cold stubbies!"

Nathan raised his gaze a little.

"For what?"

"Just some blueprints and writing utensils I need to keep myself occupied in this can. Won't take long to find them. Bring 'em back here, I'll give you this."

He then produces a key from one of his stitched-up pockets, glinting a little as Nathan looked at it.

"Key for the cooler which you can help yourself to after you bring me the blueprints. What do you say?"

Nathan looked at the key and at the Junker.

"I'll be back," he accepted, turning away.

"Thanks, mate."

As he walked away from their cell, he saw Fareeha and Mei waiting for him.

"What did he say to you?" the Security-Chief asked as he caught up to them.

"Nonsense," he said.

"Good, I thought it would be something to worry about. I already have enough on my plate for today."

"Is that so? Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks. What about you, Mei? I swore I heard you mention something earlier before you started reprimanding Fawkes."

"Me?" the Climatologist asked. "Well, I still have some experiments to conduct and research notes to compile. Same-old, same-old, really. Not a lot of excitement, sorry."

"Haven't cracked the climate code, yet?" Nathan asked, regarding her.

"Nope, not yet, unfortunately. Just trying to collect as much data as I can and making sense of it all if it even does make sense."

"I wish you the best of luck, then."

"What about you, Nathan? Have anything special in your schedule? I know you've been on leave for a while, now."

Nathan didn't say anything as he walked alongside them. His mind blanking on what to answer with.

"Just anything to keep myself useful around here," he responded. "Not terribly exciting, either, but I'll manage."

"I'll make sure to call you when I need help with something," Mei said, smiling up at him. "Especially for hard to reach places."

Nathan smirked, looking down at her in appreciation.

However, as they walked and got further away from the Junkers' cell, Nathan gradually slowed down, trailing behind them further until he stopped in front of another jail cell that was also occupied. Turning his head to see the Talon Prisoner, Jose, writing away at something on his desk in his prison cell. This cell was more decorated and "lived in" than the concrete boxes they usually were, looking more like a personal quarter. However, Jose stopped and slowly looked up from his desk to see the Courier standing there, tall and with his eyes glaring at him. The Prisoner felt his heart jump to his throat for a second before he darted his eyes back to his desk and kept scribbling. He remained under the hostile scrutiny of the visitor for a few moments after that, before the Courier growled and walked away.

* * *

Nathan wasted no time guzzling down half-a-stubby as he walked through the base with a whole milk crate of them under his arm. All of them rattling with every step, their outsides becoming wet with condensation and making the air around his arm feel chill. He had downed another quarter of the one he was working on before dropping it for air, clicking his tongue of that bitter aftertaste. He did question where Junkrat was able to get a set of Australian beer, but he was satisfied enough when the Junker actually handed over the key once he did his bidding. Not weaseling himself out of a deal like many would've expected.

Nathan might've had something to do in the afternoon, but the plan has changed now. Now, all he felt like doing was guzzle down as much Aussie beer as he can and maybe watch a sunset to set the mood. Maybe pay a little visit to María if the beer makes him so inclined.

He already finished the first bottle before he even reached his quarters, holding the mouth over his tongue for the last drops of beer to drip down. After it was rendered dry, he dropped the empty bottle into the crate and instantly grabbed another one, slamming the neck into the edge of the crate and popping the cap off. Due to how vigorously he shook it, foam flooded out of the mouth and over the bottle and his hand. He didn't care, he just didn't want to waste another drop as he tipped his head back and kept skulling the drink. Not even looking where he was going as he drank. Downing a quarter of this bottle, he let go and looked at the bottle for himself, admiring the cool glass. However, he frowned when he saw his hand – and by extension, the bottle – tremble. It wasn't obvious, and he only noticed it when he examined it very closely, almost up to his face.

'Nothing a couple drinks couldn't fix,' he thought, brushing it aside and putting his attention back to the beers. 'Maybe some smokes, too…'

He kept walking through the halls, not wanting to pay any mind towards anything else that may distract him. Just focused on trying to enjoy himself the ways he knew how. Nathan was alone for much of the time after he had retrieved his reward, but as he kept walking through another hallway, there was another noise echoing through the hall besides the clattering bottles. Dozens of noises, most of them loud but quick pops that reverberated against the walls. He knew they were gunshots, but that alone didn't warrant concern as he knew he was coming up to the base's firing range. What did make him a bit curious was the amount he heard. It sounded like every booth was being occupied by a shooter, not just a few of them at a time.

'They sound busy…'

He stopped in front of the doorway that would've led to the shooting range, deciding whether he should pay the little visit to the facility. He wouldn't know a lot of people that were inside, and he didn't have any of his guns on him beside his sidearm. However, he did enjoy firearms and recreational shooting. Probably one of the more  _productive_  things he was good at.

He took one more swig of his beer before going through the doorway to enter the firing range. However, he caught himself about to bring a case of alcohol to where there was going to be live weapons and ammunition. Not wanting to be a complete reprobate, he found a big box and hid his crate of drinks behind it. Replacing the cap onto his current beer and placing it back amongst its alcohol brethren, saving the little morsels for later.

After finding some spare ear and eye protection, Nathan walked into the firing range and found himself walking behind an entire line of small arms fire. Dozens of guns of varying calibers and types firing into holographic, man-sized targets. From the smallest pistol round to full-powered rifle cartridges, he felt the power of their respective blasts even as he stood behind them. Spent casings sometimes landing at his feet when he walked by with the smell of sulfur wafting up to his nose. Sights, sounds, and smells he was accustomed to. However, many of the weapons were firing energy, mainly lasers that made the booths light up in a red hue.

Instead of pops, they made cracks, the air feeling hotter than typical muzzle flashes. Some were fired single shot, even fewer were fired in short, automatic bursts. They particularly caught the Waster's eye because of how  _thin_ the beams seemed like they were only a few centimeters in diameter. Unlike the laser rifles back home that produced beams as wide as his fist. They also lacked a significant amount of smoke wafting from their muzzles. The metal not red hot after a few shots. However, these laser weapons weren't nearly as blocky or brick-like as the AER's or Wattz models. Probably weighed a lot less, too. He'd take these over Hana's peashooter any day, though.

Aside from the weapons, he watched the shooters hit their targets with ease, watching rounds and bolts hit their targets. Some of them shooting multiple targets at once in the wider booths. Some of the shooters would fire off their main small arm, but transition swiftly to their sidearm or another long gun, before engaging their target, again. A couple were solely practicing their draw, their hands inches from their holsters before quickly clearing leather. None of them weren't bad, but when fifty meters was the highest anyone could go in this range, there wasn't much to be genuinely impressed by. Maybe he'll see them in action, see how they do there.

As he kept walking, his eye caught something glinting at the benches behind the shooting line. Turning his head, the first thing he spotted was the gold ornament of McCree's hat. The Gunslinger rested against a bench with ammo boxes and weapon cases around him, observing the shooting range in front of him. He spotted Nathan, hard to miss among the busy and loud place.

"Well, ain't this a surprise," Jesse said, tipping his hat to him. "Haven't seen you around here for a while."

"I'm aware," Nathan said, nodding to him, then glancing at his hip. "Ain't shootin'?"

"Not today. Not like I need to practice, anyway. Nah, I'm just watching. Acting as the supervisor and the range officer, I guess."

"Right."

Nathan took a spot next to Jesse, propping himself against the bench along the wall and stood there as he watched all the shooters. Small arms fire going off in practically all directions, the sounds and blasts bouncing off the walls and surfaces. The smell of gunpowder and laser discharge powerful for them where they were. The two men being serenaded by the cacophony at the firing line.

"This place is packed," Nathan keenly observed.

"Yup," Jesse said.

"What's the occasion, then? There's gotta be something that got all these folks out here and shootin'."

"Guess you haven't heard, then?"

"Why else would I be asking?"

"Hmph. Well, if you don't know, a lot of us are getting ready and gearing up for a big operation we'll probably carry out in the next few days if things go where they should. Fareeha was the one who put me in charge of this little range day, whip all of 'em into combat-readiness shape. It's nice being in charge, but blowing off some steam isn't bad, either."

"You're not even shooting anything, though?"

"Not me. Them. Anyways, we need to keep our wits about ourselves as anything might happen and we'll need to be called to it. If half of the stuff I heard about the place we'll be sent to is true, we might need it."

"I see. Good luck, then."

McCree glanced at Brin, before scoffing and shaking his head.

"Oh, yeah, you're on leave. Lucky son of a bitch," he muttered. "How long?"

"I only just started, so… I don't know. As long as it takes? Before I get tired of it or we end up finding my way back home."

"While I can't speak for the second thing, I have a feeling it will take a long while before you 'get tired' of not having to be on a mission, especially with all the shit you've been through."

Nathan glanced at him for a second before looking straight ahead. He may have just started being on leave from deployments and missions, but he was afraid that there was going to be a day when he will get tired of it quicker than he wanted. It was that old, Wandering Wastelander spirit in him or some bullshit like that. Something his mother would tell him to explain the antsy feeling in his legs when he stood in a place for too long. Part of the reason he wandered away from home. As if he was the goddamn Vault Dweller.

"We'll see," was all Nathan wanted to admit.

"Yeah, and I heard what happened recently. You doing alright? Doc patch you up just fine?"

"I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me from the crazy, fuckin' Aussie. Should've left him in the Outback. Rutledge is the only one I can trust to be 'sensible'."

"I wouldn't go as far to say that, but I heard there's a nice bounty for bringing both of them in. Probably'll help with our funding."

"Yeah, thought the same too. But their worth to Overwatch must be more than that if they're still here. And no – I didn't need to visit Dr. Ziegler, this time around."

Jesse did a double-take.

"Really? I'll be damned," he smirked, almost in disbelief.

"Yeah, I don't always get fucked up, McCree," Nathan adamantly said.

"That's why I'm surprised. You were always in and out of her office every other mission. Hell, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were intentionally harming yourself just to get closer to the Doc."

"Yeah, I'd definitely shoot myself in the thigh just to be with a woman… I'm not that desperate."

"Well, for any random woman, no. But Angela? Partner, you could do a lot worse."

The taller man looked down at him, frowning, of course.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I can't think of any other better person to watch over you when you got a bullet in your gut or just passed out drunk. She'll always take care of you."

"I already know that, partner. Known that for a  _long_ while, now."

Nathan went back to looking at all the booths and the shooter's who occupied them. Watching them go off with their weapons and kill dozens of holographic targets with expertise. However, a few of them trained with training bots, making the things explode or crumble under the power of their weapons. As he thought about the amount of cleanup that would be required to constantly use such targets, his eye caught another glint in the sun. This time in a shade of blue, with more training bots to be seen. It was Vaswani, with a small crowd around her.

"What's she doing?" Nathan asked, gesturing to her.

"Her? Well, she's… I ain't too sure myself, actually," Jesse honestly answered.

Curious, Nathan got off the bench and walked over to all the commotion. When he got to the edge of the crowd, some of them parted for him and shuffled out of his way. Some of them seemed a little frightened by his presence when they stepped aside, but he just rolled his eyes. He already had a good view before they started moving, seeing Vaswani standing in front of her booth and three training bots floating in the target range. Even with a crowd behind her, she barely seemed to take notice as her hands twirled and orbited around each other. She then sent a spark of light flying in front of them until it hit the ground, the energy then coalescing into a solid object – a white sphere with a glowing blue "eye" with a nozzle, levitating upon three sets of prongs that hooked into the ground. Satya then produced two more, with ease, creating three turrets for each of the training bots she had in front of her. Then, synchronously, the three spheres directed constants beams of blue energy towards their respective training bots, until the machines crumbled and exploded. Drawing a reaction from the crowd behind her, Nathan included.

"Neat," McCree said, joining Nathan and the crowd.

Nathan stepped forward and went to her side to examine her handiwork, but Satya was startled a little when he entered her sight.

"Oh, it's you…" she says, calming down. Then, she clasped her hands in front of her waist and faced Nathan. "What can I help you with, Mr. Brin?"

"Uh, nothing," he said. "Just wanted to see what you're doing."

"If you must know, I am currently optimizing the power yield of my turrets. So, when they are rapidly deployed, they can output the highest amount of damage possible and subdue any targets they lock on to. Increasing their effectiveness by a coefficient of 32.33%. Repeating, of course."

"Okay. Didn't ask, but thanks."

"Oh… My sincerest apologies, then!" her serious expression wavering for a second. "I did not mean to overload you with information."

"You didn't. You're fine," Nathan reassured. "I just wanted to know what was warranting the small crowd you've gathered."

"Crowd?" she questioned before turned her head and saw the small group of people that had she amassed. Surprising herself.

"Yeah. Now, I wonder what other tricks you have up your sleeve," he said, looking at the three little turrets.

Satya tipped her head a little, brow furrowing. Seeming displeased with something he had said.

"'Tricks', Mr. Brin?" the Architect questioned. "I assure you, they are not simple parlor tricks or party favors. They can be instrumental in our operations in Overwatch."

"I saw, back in Numbani. I just never got a good look considering that dickhead throwing me around like a ragdoll, but I saw."

"Then I hope you see what Vishkar has to… Offer to the table. What  _I_  have to offer to the table; Not as an architect but also as a worthy agent alongside Overwatch."

That little tangent she went on made Nathan wrinkle his eyebrow, especially her sudden praise of the megacorporation. Her employers were a different story, but he didn't care about them, now.

"Alongside Overwatch, huh?" he questioned, leaning against the booth. "To what degree?"

"Are… Are you insinuating that I may act dissident to the goals and operations of Overwatch," Satya narrowed her eyes under that protective visor.

"What? No, not that. I want to know how flexible you'll be."

"I'm not sure I am following."

"Back in Numbani, and before that, I saw you create shields and solid structures with ease. Out of thin air, practically."

"Hard-light construction is an advanced technique. Some people would call it 'magic', but it is far from a fantasy nor illusion."

"I agree. And you're rather creative with it if these little eggs are an indication."

"…'Eggs?'"

She looked down at the turrets she placed down range, her eyes scrutinizing their white shells and spherical shapes. They weren't egg-shaped in the traditional sense, but she didn't hold it against Nathan. Opting to keep quiet about the label.

"But what I'm curious about is what you can do  _without_ your tricks," Nathan said, gesturing to her glove and turrets.

"A situation without my powers is practically inconceivable," Satya responded, her brow furrowing. "They are a part of my being as much as clothes."

"I'm sure they are, but in a hypothetical sense – without the ability to make turrets or walls of energy appear out of thin air – what then? Gonna fight those Talon fucks with sticks and rocks?"

"Of course, not! That would be unsightly and border on barbaric!"

"But do you know any other ways to fight? Without this 'hard-light'?"

Satya opened her mouth to speak, almost offended by the questions Nathan was posing. However, no words came out when she couldn't find any appropriate response. Trying to think of anything else besides the hard-light technology she grew to master and adapt for Vishkar's needs or her needs.

"What are you suggesting, then, Mr. Brin?" Vaswani asked, waiting for his answer.

Nathan thought about that for a second, before he noticed the cacophony of smalls arms fire that was still occurring behind them.

"You know how to use a gun?" sincerely asked.

"You can't be serious," Satya frowned, almost seeming insulted.

"I am."

"Guns are a crude amalgamation of metal and chemical reactions. They are unwieldy and unrefined. Using them would only hinder progress and innovation. Brute-force is their only application."

"But they achieve that application particularly well. And I wouldn't consider most of them 'unwieldy and unrefined' – the ones I've used. They are supposed to be weapons, after all, and a weapon that doesn't work is useless. They're time proven."

She was unconvinced, almost scoffing at the notion of using a firearm alongside her hard-light prowess. Nathan, on the other hand, wasn't deterred by her disinterest. That only encouraged him further.

"They're also one of the most common forms of  _offense_  out there. You're more a  _defensive_  person, from what I've seen," Nathan observed. "There's no shame in learning a new skill."

"Skill? Did you mother teach you such things? Teach you how to use firearms?"

"She did."

Satya blinked, not expecting to learn that about him.

"She taught me almost everything I know. Made it clear that I wasn't… What did she say… 'leaving 'till you can shoot as easily as you can shit'."

"Hah! She sounds like a woman I'd like to meet," McCree commented.

"Well, she ain't letting you within a hundred yards of her," Brin quipped.

The two men chuckled with each other, but Satya darted her eyes between them, confused.

"But yeah. She thought it was a valuable skill. What about you? Willing to give it a try?" he asks.

"What do you plan on teaching me?" she questioned.

"Learn how to shoot. What else?"

"And shoot with what?"

After she asked that, the large grip of a revolver sticking out of its leather holster was brought in between them. The spur jingling as its owner held it out to them.

"How 'bout trying this one for size?" Jesse offered, but obviously being silly.

"I'm not trying to break her wrist, McCree," Nathan said, pushing the leather holster back.

"You got something else in mind? How about the piece on your hip?"

".45 ACP isn't a good starter round, either."

".22 then?"

"I don't have a .22-"

Nathan stopped himself as he realized he technically did. Only off by a few millimeters, but it was arguably the second-best starter round to begin with. In a rifle platform, too, adding to the ease and controllability.

"Actually, I do… Wait here, I'll be back."

* * *

Minutes later, Nathan was back in his personal quarters, sifting through the drawers and grabbing All-American from it. Holding it by the barrel shroud, he used his other hand to sift more through the drawer and retrieved several magazines for it – standard loads. Getting everything he needs, he stood up and closed the drawer with his leg as he slung All-American over his shoulder. Wasting no time, he quickly made his way out of his room and heard the door close on itself. Walking through the halls to get back to the shooting range.

'Really doing this, huh?' Nathan questioned himself. 'Gonna teach another one how to shoot? Better be worth it…'

However, when he walked past the doors, his footsteps must have been heavy as one of the doors ahead slid open slightly. A pair of ornate headphones popping out into the hallway as Hana looked around and spotted Nathan walking in her general direction. Her eyes widened, and Nathan noticed.

"Hey, dude! Do you got a sec?" she called out, rather jubilantly.

"Uhhh…" Nathan physically stopped. "Later, kid. I'm doing something right now."

"Huh? Is it urgent?

"I told them I'd be back. Can't keep 'em waiting."

"Oh… Okay. Uh, see ya' later, then."

Nathan nodded and went on his way, reverting to the quick and purposeful step in his feet. Hana watched him go, disappointed. Then, also peering through the doorway, Lúcio stuck his head out and looked where she was. Seeing Nathan go off into the distance, as well.

"I guess he's busy," he said.

"Maybe later we can try. Can't let all those hours of work be for nothing," she said, remorsefully. "I just hope we have enough time left before the upcoming OP…"

* * *

"So… You come here often?" Jesse asked Satya with a sly smile, casually leaning against the booth and propping his brim up.

"No, I don't," Satya seriously answered, her arms crossed and narrowing her eyes. Suspicious to how close he's gotten.

Unfortunately for the Cowboy, Nathan was back in the range with his carbine slung over his shoulder. Not taking long to get where they were and presenting what he brought.

"Here it is," Nathan held out All-American in front of himself, showing Vaswani the carbine.

As expected, she looked at it in near disgust, her eyes switching back and forth between the rifle and its owner. Her eyes dissecting everything from the stock to the camo-paint. The old rifle catching the ire of the Architect.

"It's… Filthy!" Satya exclaimed.

"It's been through a lot," Nathan responded. "It's got scars like me."

"No offense, Mr. Brin, but I don't see how using this rifle will be beneficial for me. It is such… An  _antiquated_  and  _crude_  design, even for firearms. The only use I could see for it is just adding improvements to it, and even then, I am not certain. I appreciate what you're trying to do but… I'm sorry Mr. Brin, but I think I am fine, for now."

Nathan continued holding out his rifle to her, but he lowered his hand slightly from what she said. However, he just grabbed his rifle and placed it on the shooting bench of her booth. The magazines he brought along placed aside it. Then, he faced Satya, again.

"Alright," he said, leaning against the booth's divider before gesturing to the three, new training bots in front of them. "Destroy those targets, then."

"What?" she asked.

"Take your energy weapon and destroy those three targets."

"You mean my  _Photon Projector_?"

"Are you going to shoot them or not?"

She was taken aback for a second by his sudden outburst but quickly regained composure as she nodded to him. Looking to the three, she brought her left hand out, making a blue light project from the palm. With her right hand, she hovered it over her palm and spun it, her fingers making a wave-like motion. Only taking a second, making her signature weapon out of nothing. Holding the now solid object in her hand, knowing it was made to her liking, she jutted her it forward and pointed at the targets.

Clasping her finger around the trigger, the three prongs spun around a thin blue beam that emanated from the center of the device. It locked onto the leftmost bot, making it surge with energy and the beam becoming larger the longer it latched onto the target. Eventually, the training bot exploded but the beam quickly latched onto the second bot. It took less time to be destroyed by the more powerful and growing beam, exploding and letting the last bot be targeted. That one blew up just a moment later, Satya letting her finger off the trigger. Leaving three wrecked targets, thoroughly destroyed, in front of her. Then, a hologram flashed in front of her, displaying a set of numbers.

"00:08.67"

"That's… Long," Nathan said, looking at the time. "Too long. Especially for three targets."

He got up from the divider and held out his hand to Satya, gesturing to the Photon Projector. She narrowed his eyes at him, glancing at her weapon, but ultimately dropped it into his hands. When she did, Nathan looked at the weapon and turned to the bench, where he just set it down. He began to manipulate the range controls and had the debris of training bots cleared out before summoning another trio of the targets to line up before them. Then, he cleared the timer.

"Mr. Brin, what are you doing?" Satya asked.

Without answering, grabbed his carbine and fired off three shots in rapid succession, Satya missing most of it as she jumped from the sudden blast from the rifle. Looking ahead, she saw all the training bots were still intact except for a lone 5.56mm sized bullet hole in each of their eyes. All of them lying on the floor, neutralized. Then, the holographic timer showed up, again, but recorded Nathan's time.

"00:00.98"

"Holy shit, did you see that?!" a spectating Overwatch agent exclaimed.

"Old designs still work," Nathan said, emptying and safeing the weapon before turning around. "Although, I won't lie that there are scenarios where your Projector excels where my Carbine can't, but that's also true vice-versa. You already mastered hard-light, so, why not try something else for a change?"

While his words certainly had some weight and general truth to them, it was backing his statement up with an impressive demonstration that truly caught the Vishkar Architect's attention. Sentiments she had about dismissing the use of firearms or other such "crude" devices were… Dampened, to say the least. She knew Nathan Brin was a skilled individual, but she thought his skillset would largely be inconsequential to her own. Maybe there was an acceptable trade to be made here.

"Okay, I accept," she said.

"Good," he said, ejecting the magazine and the chambered round, flipping it to safe. "Let's go over the basics, starting with safety…"

* * *

Goodsprings, Nevada, Mojave Desert

2076

The hydraulic jack of her Saturnite Power Fist rocketed forward when her hand clenched, making it hiss. The jack then retracted back to its starting position, firmly seating as Veronica looked over her gauntlet for the 3rd time this night. The Fist had lost much of its bright splendor as the heat began to dissipate from the metal, but not by much. Still, she was able to work on it and fix the mechanism for the hydraulic jack. Getting it back into working order just an hour earlier. However, rather than taking pride in her work, she took in a deep breath and dropped her head. Knowing she was only getting ready to be thrown into what may possibly be her second big fight in this "strange" land, so soon. Stewing in her thoughts.

'Just a little bit longer… Then… Hopefully, something.'

She was interrupted from her thinking when there was a knock at the bedroom door, making her sit up.

"Veronica, you ready?" she heard Boone on the other side.

"Yeah! Just give me a sec, alright?" Veronica responded. "I still need to be decent!"

"We ain't attending a boll. Don't take too long. We'll wait for you outside."

She heard Boone walk away from the door and down the hallway, where she could hear everyone else in the house. Standing up, she looked at a mirror and saw herself in the skintight jumpsuit for the PA, with a pneumatic gauntlet. Veronica snorted as she turned slightly and got a better look at herself, specifically her backside.

However, she still felt that something wasn't there, or that she was missing something for their mission. Only with nothing but a skintight suit and a pneumatic gauntlet.

She looked to her right towards a cabinet, where a pack of their belongings laid at the foot of it. Stepping over and bending down, she began searching through the pack to find what else she may need to be prepared. Sorting through a lot of stuff, silently impressed with how much they could fit into such tight spaces, but remembered how well Nathan taught her that, too. Tricks of the trader, no doubt.

As she moved around and picked through the pack, she accidentally bumped her elbow into the handle for the cabinet. Wincing from the sudden jolt in her arm, she began to rub her elbow to soothe the sensation but cast her gaze up and saw something glint inside the closet. She stood up, and after taking a quick glance at the door, slowly slid the door open to look inside. Wide open, there were clean and neat clothes hanging off racks but what grabbed her attention was the beige uniform with a shiny seven-pointed Sheriff's badge still pinned on the left breast. When she gently grabbed the shoulder to move it a little, some dust shook off. After looking at the badge, she turned her eyes to the nametag to see "Walker" stitched onto it.

Even if that was his last name, Veronica knew this uniform wasn't Senior's.

The pieces were they and she had no trouble putting them together, but the ex-Scribe was still saddened for him, knowing how it felt to lose family in more ways than one.

She closed the cabinet door to be respectful, before going back to the pack and getting ready. Maybe she can get Senior some payback to show thanks.

* * *

Rex sat on the living room couch in the middle cushion with most of the others around him, as well. Cooper occupied the cushion one side next to him, asleep, and Parmley was on the adjacent couch with Joseph. Boone was outside, tending to something. With everyone else either being busy with matters at hand or resting, Rex was the only one paying any mind to what was on the big, curved, flat-screen living room TV. The bright, clear, and colorful images that were playing on the large screen caught the old dog's curiosity, but what those images were kept his attention.

The TV showed shaky videos and images of a landscape covered in snow, people in large, white winter coats running with military gear and weapons, rifles that looked eerily like old Soviet small arms. Many of them bearing a red, five-pointed star. However, also amongst the snow, were the dark hulls of large machines with glowing red eyes. Some small and with four spider-like legs, others seeming tall and imposing with only two legs as large as buses. All of them armed with an assortment of ordinance protruding from their hulls. The TV showing many shots of these humans and machines engaging in full-on war with each other. Shots of human soldiers firing their weapons at advancing war machines, and shots of human soldiers trying to rush through the snow while under fire from these machines. Explosions and constant gunfire going off as the reel tapes went on, with full sound coming from the TV, as well.

An unseen woman was narrating over the footage, with the news headline "Russian Offensive Against Omnics Continues".

"Months after the initial offensive began against the omnic threat, the Russian Armed Forces continue their assault against the hostile omnic forces present in and around Siberia," the news narrator said with more b-roll of winter combat being played. "However, even after repeated attempts to advance into the Siberian wilds to shut down the Siberian Omnium, not much progress has been made crossing into omnic held territory. Both Russian ground and air forces have encountered heavy omnic resistance, which is reported to have been 'more substantial' than initially anticipated by Russian military leaders."

Then, there was a clip of Russian soldiers running along a tree-line, multiple machines guns and rifleman posted along the trunks. The camera focused on something in the distance, several spider-like machines with automated cannons on their bikes running towards their tree-line. The soldiers began yelling in their language and fired upon the approaching machines. The machines firing back with devastating effect. Rex growled at the screen.

"Other factors hindering the Russian advance into Siberia include the presence of many towns and settlements within the area. Many of them evacuated in response to the increasing fighting across the front. Unfortunately, some have been devastated and taken over by the omnics, displacing or killing those caught in the crossfire."

Shots of destroyed and crumbling buildings and homes were now on the TV. Sweeping shots of entire towns reduced to rubble among the snow. Followed up by scenes of people walking or shambling away from the destruction, some of them in tears. Rex whimpered after hearing them cry.

"Yet, despite such setbacks months prior, Russian leaders are confident that Russian Forces will be able to advance into omnic territory once the new line of Volskaya mechs reaches the front. Until then, the fighting continues."

The scene crossfaded to a longshot of large, bipedal humanoid machines that towered over everything in their surroundings, patrolling the streets of a Russian metropolitan area. Rex huffed, genuinely impressed by the big robots.

Finally, after minutes of waiting, Veronica walked out of the bedroom in her jumpsuit and into the living room.

"Sorry to keep all of you waiting. A girl has to look good on a mission. You guys ready?"

"Bark!" Rex exclaimed, hopping off the couch and running up to Veronica. Cooper, as well.

"Parmley, are you good?"

"Yeah, just hold on a sec!" the Ranger held up a finger, going back to what Joseph was showing him on his holopad. A detailed map overlooking the area that was the Deadlock gang's hideout they were going to hit. One of the most detailed and colorful maps he has ever seen. "So, this is where they all should be, huh?"

"Yup," Joseph happily exclaimed. "You should be there in no time but be careful. They probably are gonna watch the main entrance and see you guys the second you walk up."

"What about these mountains? Can we use those?" he pointed to some landmarks to the West of the camp.

"I guess. They probably won't see it coming. I dunno, I'm new to this kind of stuff."

"Well, you've been a ton of help. Never expected you to have access to such intel. Nice work, trooper."

"Thanks!" Joseph said with a big grin. "I only just Googled this, but I can't wait for you guys bring the law back into town!"

Veronica saw that and smiled at the little exchange, though, still a little saddened by what she found in the bedroom. The connections starting to make sense the more she saw.

Finally, Senior walked out into the living room with Jennette behind him. He put on a leather jacket while Jennette handed him his shotgun. He pulled on the pump and checked the breach as he chambered a round, before slinging it around his shoulder. Addressing the others after he did so.

"Let's get this done with."

"Be safe out there, okay?" Jennette said to all of them.

* * *

Unexpectedly, Senior drove all of them close to their intended location, near the prison where the gang was held up. After he stopped, everyone filed out of the truck and began to gather the rest of the equipment they brought along for this mission from the bed and the trailer hitched to the truck. Only with light from the car did Senior watch as Veronica and Parmley got into their respective suits of power armor, watching with silent intrigue when the large machines closed around their operators. Now towering above most people, shrouded in a body of armor, yet moving as naturally as breathing.

The helmet for the one Veronica was wearing reminded him of an owl.

Then, they gathered their weapons, many of them also things of which he has never seen before. Some of them he presumed to be energy weapons but glowing and radiating an energy that seemed alien. They weren't as sleek or curved as the energy weapon models he's familiar with, but they were blocky and hefty, with all sorts of bells and whistles on them. None of which he could make head or tails of. However, he imagined they could do a lot of damage, especially the big green one that looked like it had a spear for a barrel. Parmley, in his Power Armor with sparking coils, grabbed the P94 and held it out for Veronica to take. She reached to it but stopped halfway.

"No, thanks. Not this time," she declined.

"Seriously?" Parmley asked.

She raised her right hand and clenched it into a fist, making the pneumatic jack launch forward. "Yeah… Just this once."

"Suit yourself," Parmley said, putting the Plasma Caster back down onto the bed. He then reached in and grabbed his .308 Service Rifle, jamming a full magazine into it and racking the charging handle. "I think I'll stick to my roots, as well."

The only other people that needed to be accounted for were Boone and the dogs. Boone was ready the second he stepped out of the car, only needing his rifle, his sidearm, and his beret. The dogs were self-explanatory.

"So, what's the plan?" the 1st Recon Sniper asked, his rifle loaded for bear.

"Honestly… I didn't think that far ahead," Veronica admitted. "But if they're convicts who will shoot at us the second we show up, then I guess we all know what to do by that point."

"Same old, same old."

"Yeah… I'm tempted to just walk up and see if they'll talk, but you're definitely gonna be covering my ass if we end up doing that."

"Makes no difference to me, either way."

"Heh, yeah. I guess that means we're all ready, then."

She looked at all of them to affirm that they were, but her eyes eventually landed on Senior. The old man standing there in his leather jacket and shotgun over his shoulder. Veronica took off her helmet and stepped over to him, stopping a few feet from him. Looking down at him in the light of the car.

"Hey, thanks for bringing us out here," she began. "You didn't really need to since this place was just a couple of miles away from Goodsprings but we appreciate it, nonetheless. You gonna help us fight?"

She gestured to his old shotgun, making him look over his shoulder.

"To be perfectly honest, I'm tempted," Senior said. "But I only came here to make sure things would be done the right way. I don't want you guys fucking this up."

"I'll keep that in mind," Veronica replied. "And I certainly don't blame the vendetta you have against them. Especially after learning about…"

She caught herself almost bringing up what could've been a sore subject for the old man, but she saw Senior staring at her with a newfound scowl.

"Yeah…" he only said, rolling his shoulder to keep the shotgun's sling over it. "You sure you don't need another gun."

"Thanks, but we'll take it from here," she responded, putting her helmet on. "I think you should get back to town, now. It'll be safer there."

"I'm staying here until you guys come back, dead or alive. Besides," he pointed to the other equipment on his truck. "I ain't hauling all this shit back inside by myself."

"Noted."

With her exchange done, she turned around to face Boone, Parmley, and the dogs.

"Let's do this," she said as she began walking in the direction of the jail.

"Parmley showed me mountains west of the prison where I can cover you," Boone said, cranking his rifle's bolt. "I'll take Cooper with me for backup."

"Go ahead, man. The rest of us will take the brunt of it, I guess. Fun."

The Sniper nodded before whistling to Cooper. The two then broke off from the group, dashing off into the darkness until they could no longer see them. Veronica and Parmley did one final weapons check as they continued walking towards the camp. The ex-Scribe having been there before but in another world. Almost felt like another life, too.

"No turning back now," Parmley said, hands firmly around his rifle.

"You could've said that a couple weeks ago," Veronica responded.

"After we're done here, we get back on track with some help, right? Not forgetting why we're really here."

"That's the plan. Let's hope it goes through."

"Yeah… I'm still trying to wrap my head around this. Being back in-"

"Can this wait? I'd rather not discuss that before I start punching people's faces off."

"…Sure."

"Thanks."

The next few minutes were spent walking in silence through the dark desert. There was a slight breeze that they could barely hear through their helmets as their feet thumped against the ground. They were taking things slow, as they were still crossing into unknown, and potentially hostile, territory. The Ranger looking around their surroundings and trying to be mindful of the darkness. Veronica did the same, her fingers snug within the glove of her Saturnite Fist. Rex took point for the group without having to be told, slowly walking in front of them and sniffing the ground occasionally.

Eventually, they could see something shining in the distance. A set of lights posted along something that looked like a watchtower. The silhouette of a fenced perimeter slowly becoming visible. As far as they could see, anyway.

"Look!" Veronica pointed to the silhouette. "There it is! Looks a bit different."

"How can you tell?" Parmley squinted, trying to what see what she saw.

"Because of the way it is. Get ready. There might be a fight soon."

"More than prepared."

As they walked a few more steps along the trail and got closer to the gang hideout, Rex was still walking in front of him until he stopped and stared straight ahead. He only stood there for a few moments, turning his head as he stared. But he began growling as he pointed to something with his snout, both Veronica and Parmley stopping behind him. They both looked ahead, too, not able to see anything out of the ordinary in the dark. And that was a problem.

"Rex…" Veronica quietly called out to him. "Get behind me, now-"

The dog didn't heed her before he barked, and the pulsating ring of energy flew from his mouth. They watched it fly through the darkness until it struck the silhouette of a man 20-30 meters in front of them, sending him tumbling to the sand screaming. Then, they were almost all blinded as an armada of vehicles turned their headlights and surrounded them. Gunfire then erupting and lighting up the desert, as well.

Parmley began firing upon the lights as Veronica dove to Rex and scooped him up in his arms. Immediately being pelted by dozens of small arms fires from nearly all directions, the two suits of Power Armor scrambled and ran to cover. However, in their haste, they accidentally split up and went in opposite directions – Parmley heading to the right while Veronica rushed to the left with Rex. Trails of gunfire followed them as they each dove behind sizable rocks, separated by an open plain of bullets. Veronica hunkered behind cover as she dropped Rex, who got to his feet and was about to charge into the fray before she grabbed him with her free hand.

"Fuck!" she heard Parmley scream into her helmet's radio.

"You alright, buddy?" she asked over the gunfire.

"They just knocked out my Lasers, Flamethrower. Fucking everything! I only got my rifle and the Tri-Beam!"

"So, you still have guns! Good! Because I'm pretty sure negotiations are out of the question now… Goddammit, why don't convicts ever wanna talk?!"

After she said that, there was some movement on the other side of the rock and a man in a cowboy hat carrying a rifle ran over to her cover. He tried to get the rifle up to start shooting but Veronica's power armored fist met him first, the entire front portion of his face became a crater of meat and bone, dropping and falling lifelessly to the dirt.

"The one on the left is the  _bitch with the fist_! Get her!" one of the Deadlock gangers said.

Suddenly, all the remorse she felt dissipated like kicked-up sand.

"Ooooh, now it's personal…"

Their gunfire lightened as the ambushing lights began to move and two motorcycles flew past them and their cover. Now behind them, the bikers spun around and started firing at the now exposed Wasters from where they were. Parmley retaliated with his Service Rifle, but Veronica was powerless as the other bike fired at her and the rounds kept pinging off her armor. When the bike quickly approached and drove-by, she took a shot in the dark and tried to hit them but missed. Gaining some distance away from her, the biker once again twirled around and was getting ready to do another drive-by, but the side of his head exploded with the boom of an unseen sniper being heard the second after. Two other gangers were taken out by this sniper before they started reacting to the threat.

"Where the hell is that coming from?!"

As they started scrambling for cover and diverted their attention elsewhere, Veronica peeked around the corner, spotting an opportunity. She looked to the other side to see Parmley looking at her, ready to get out of cover.

"Let's go make trouble," she smirked.

She and Rex quickly rushed out of cover and towards the line of gangers while Parmley popped up and gave covering fire. Rex was naturally faster and gained a lead on Veronica, but she was able to keep up with the APA, barreling towards the gangers and making the ground quake with every step. She spotted a lone convict with his back to him, but as he spun around it was too late as she grabbed him with her power arm before slamming a Saturnite block into his squishy face. As that happened, the other gangers turned their attention to her and fired, but their rounds only pinged against her armor. With the two of them set loose upon the Deadlock gang, they started wreaking havoc with every punch and bite. Sending the convicts into a panicked frenzy as they started being overwhelmed, their ambush being turned on its head. A few of them already scrambling to get away from them.

'Just quick, one-two punches,' she told herself, focusing on her opponents. Already knocking several into the sand. 'No need to draw things out. Make it quick but make it hurt.'

Since Veronica and Rex were among the fray, sending men flying or running, Parmley couldn't get a clear line of sight of the convicts. Grumbling, he switched his Service Rifle out for the Tri-Beam and left cover to join them in routing the outlaw gang. However, he saw the headlights of an approaching motorcycle and winced when he felt something smack him across the helmet when it flew by. It didn't hurt, but it disoriented him from the sudden attack. When he gained his bearings, he looked down and saw something had landed at his feet. He barely had time to react as the grenade went off and sent him flying back a foot onto his back. The explosion made Veronica stop and looked back to see the set of T-51b on the ground with explosive residue all over the front.

"Parmley?!"

"… I'm fine, ugh…" he said as he tried to get up despite feeling like gelatin.

But the headlight of the motorcycle came into view again and Parmley turned to see him quickly approaching him, again. Snarling, he shoulders his weapon and started firing the Tri-Beam at the motorcycle, making the area around him light up in red. Eventually, as the biker got close, he landed a lucky shot and made the biker disintegrate into a pile of ash, the bike losing control and crashing into the line of vehicles set up in the ambush.

'Well, someone has a taste for theatrics,' Veronica thought.

Then, she heard a large weapon get charged and looked up to see one of the vehicles with an improvised machine gun turret in the back. A big and long barrel pointed directly at her from just a couple of feet. She felt the big thing boom when it started firing. Bringing up her arms and turning away to protect herself, feeling the concussive blasts even through her armor. Making her lose balance and fall on one knee from the firepower. Thankfully, the machine gunner's onslaught ended when a laser bolt struck him.

Unfortunately for the machine gunner, that wasn't the end of it, as he didn't disintegrate within the blink of an eye and instead had a slow, gradual, and painful death. The ganger could feel his atoms being pulled apart and could only scream as his body started floating up into the air as he burned. Even his scream became distorted and unnatural, nearby gangers watching in horror as their friend levitated as he glowed red. Finally, the screaming stopped when he exploded into a cloud of burning ash that went everywhere, covering everything in the closest vicinity. Everyone that witnessed it in shock, even Veronica, who looked at Parmley in surprised.

"What setting did you have that on?!"

Meanwhile, the gangers – having just witnessed that – started running away. Running back to their hideout, driving out into the desert – it didn't matter. Their plan had gone completely sideways with the strangers, and they weren't going to risk it. Unfortunately, the others still gave chase since they had a job to do.

Breaking beyond the defensive line, Veronica, Parmley, and Rex ran towards the prisoner and chased them down. Parmley and Boone shot down anyone they could get their sights on, but Veronica and Rex ran ahead of them to get a head start on the gangers. The ex-Scribe even catching up to a few driving them into the ground. Some of them did turn around to fire haphazardly at the attackers, but it was futile.

"Who the fuck are these people?!"

'We're the Courier's friends, bitch!' Veronica immediately thought but kept quiet to at least keep  _some_ sophistication while they work.

Chasing them down, they were getting closer to the prison – their main base of operations. All the lights were on and she could see people inside the fenced perimeter running around. The watchtower closest to her had the spotlights on her and two men up top getting ready to shoot. Two seconds and two gunshots later, she saw the same two men fall off the watchtower and to the ground.

"Thanks, Boone," she said over the radio.

"No problem."

Running to the perimeter of the correctional facility, she tried to remember where the entrance was supposed to be as it had been so many years since she helped cleared it out. Making a guess, she continued going south until she came across a little passageway that led to a building within the fenced perimeter. She ran towards it and watched Deadlock convicts run inside through a door and slamming it shut behind them. Veronica stood there, looking at the door as Parmley and Rex ran up to her.

"Now what?" Parmley asked.

"We knock," Veronica said.

Taking a step back to ready herself, Veronica rocketed forward and ran towards the door, making the ground shake. Putting her left shoulder into it, she crashed through the old prison door and sent it flying. When she ran in, there were several surprised and terrified faces as soon as she came in. Some of them were too scared to do anything when she lunged towards them and pummeled them into smithereens. Rex and Parmley were there only a second later, joining the fight. It didn't take them long for them to clear the room, the poor Deadlock gangers not standing a chance. After they were done with this room, Veronica led them towards a hallway that ended with a door. If memory served her right, that should lead them to the courtyard and the rest of the facility. To where more of the fighting might be.

Giving Parmley and Rex another assuring nod, she wasted no time as she charged forward and barreled through this door like the first one. Immediately encountering several Deadlock gangers, but fewer than she expected. They outnumbered them but that made little difference to the humans in Power Armor and the cyberdog. However, even though they were all armed and held their weapons at the intruders, none of them had squeezed the trigger yet. This impromptu standoff creating an awkward silence that lasted longer than it should've as Veronica and the others just stood there and stared at all the gangers pointing weapons at them. Some of them visibly scared. Suddenly, there were the sounds and lights of vehicles and Veronica looked ahead to see a small caravan of trucks and motorcycles drive away from the correctional facility and into the desert. Some of the Deadlock members noticing and becoming shocked from what they were seeing.

"Are those your friends?" Veronica asked coyly. "That's rough."

One of the gangers tried to raise his sights on her head but only had his head explode in a pink mist that made the others flinch. Boone certainly had the best timing out of all of them.

"Oh, screw this!" one of the Deadlock members exclaimed as he tossed his rifle onto the ground. "I surrender! I am fucking surrendering!  _Please!_  Don't kill me!"

The other Deadlock members nervously looked at each other, before they decided to smarten up and throw their weapons on the ground as well. All their hands reaching for the sky, as well. Veronica and Parmley just looked at each other.

"Well, that was easy… Easier than the first time," she said, impressed with herself. "What do you think?"

"Y'all have any bounties on you?" the Ranger asked, keeping his weapon trained on them.

After more nervous glances, several of them nodded.

"I'm worth more alive!" one of them exclaimed.

"Guess that settles it," the Ranger said. "We made ourselves some money, too. Not a bad start, at all."

Veronica smiled under her helmet before looking around and trying to spot any other convicts that need punching. Eventually, she spotted the largest building on this complex, which is what she assumed to be the administration building. Wasn't as big as she expected, but she saw that some of the lights were still inside.

"Stay here and watch over them, I think we have a few stragglers," she said, leaving Parmley and Rex on prisoner duty.

Reaching the front door of the administration building, she gently grabbed the door handle with her large metal hand and twisted it. The door creaked as she slowly pushed it inwards and peeked her yellow eyes inside. It was a rundown office space, but it wasn't centuries of decay, yet. Ducking under the doorway and stepping inside, she calmly walked through the building and looked around to refamiliarize herself with the interior. It was slightly different, but she eventually found the staircase that would've led to the second floor. At the bottom of the staircase, she could hear a familiar voice arguing with someone. Interested, she stepped lightly as she climbed up the staircase. Listening while she did.

"…What do you mean they were wearing Power Armor?! Not even the .50 Cal did anything?!" a familiar voice argued with seemingly no one in particular. "Well, where the hell are you even going?! You can't leave me here! I don't care if they might be Overwatch or the Feds, I don't wanna be stuck here!"

Veronica finally reached the second floor and slowly stepped to where she heard the voice. Then, she stepped over to a doorway and spotted the man they had encountered the night before. The one that flipped them off when she told them to back off Senior and Joseph. He was holding a black rectangular device against his ear as he paced back and forth in an office.

"You're heading back to the Gorge? Like hell you are! Turn your ass back around and pick me up!" he yelled, completely oblivious to the hulking suit of armor watching him. "I don't care if the bosses are gonna be angry, it's better than being stuck here… Wait, they can't be inside I haven't heard anything-"

That's when he finally saw the suit of APA standing in the doorway.

"What's up?" Veronica said, bringing her fist up. "Remember me?"

"…Fuck," he grumbled, dropping his phone.

* * *

The sun was beginning to rise on the dusty little berm of Goodsprings, with some of the townsfolk getting up for the day but many others just sleeping in as there wasn't going to be much for them to do. However, one resident didn't walk out of their home but instead stumbled out of the Pioneer Saloon, barely having control of their faculties from a night of heavy drinking. His eyes hurt as he stepped into the daylight, putting on his big brim hat to shield them. His badge glowing in the morning sun.

Trying to stand straight up, he walked over to where his patrol car was parked to get in. However, he felt the sun get blocked out from behind him and instinctively turned around to look. Instantly seeing Senior's truck slowly driving up the road to town with a full bed of the Deadlock outlaws bound and gagged, two hulking figures in Power Armor flanking either side of the truck. That sight alone was enough to bring Billy out of his hangover as he dropped his car keys.

He wasn't the only one to notice, as other townsfolk began to gather around the main road and watch the small caravan drive further into town. More townsfolk filling out into the street, waking up now from all the commotion in the normally quiet morning. All of them now coming out to see the spectacle paraded through their main street. Some of the very outlaws that harassed their homes for so long now hanging their heads low with an armored escort bearing down on them. Strangers in armor they've never seen holding weapons they've never seen. The blood on them an indicator of what happened to the other gang members. And driving the truck was one of their own, bearing an unassuming but satisfied smile.

Pulling up and stopping between the General Store and the Saloon, Senior hopped off and walked to the back of his truck. He stood with the others as the townsfolk began to gather around, but not getting too close. Wondering who those people in armor were, why one of the dogs was part metal, and why Senior had Deadlock in his truck bed. A bit scared, a bit in awe, but curious. Wondering what people who looked like Overwatch were doing in the middle of nowhere.

Then, Senior spoke.

"Everyone!" he began, putting a confident hand on Veronica's left pauldron. "You owe these people a drink!"

There was some confusion, some murmuring, at first. People making uneasy glances with each other and muttering questions to each other. Some caution about the people in armor, the man with the red beret, and the dog with a brain-dome. But they also saw the band of restrained Deadlock gang members, and that was a sight they wanted to see for quite some time. Some of the old-timers barely remembering a time without those bastards grinding their boots into this town, but smiling when those days might come back, again. Some of the younger people sharing that joy, too, upon their realization. Then, to the relief of the outsiders, the townsfolk began to cheer for them.

First time experiencing it without Nathan.


	57. On the Road Again

Engineering Workshop, Watchpoint: Gibraltar

In the afternoon.

The workshop was usually loud, expected with the extensive use of tools and heavy machinery, but it was relatively quieter than usual today. Only two people were inside the workshop, Bastion and Brigitte. The omnic just stayed in place as he didn't have much to do at the current moment, occasionally looking around to find anything he hasn't seen before in this room. He had some new pieces of armor plating on him, newly improved Lindholm works. Shinier, rounder, and most importantly, lighter. Well, not nearly as shiny due to a hint of ceramic in them.

The one who worked on them was at the workbench, doing work unrelated to omnic upgrades. Wearing heavy protective leather gloves, she held a welder above a piece of olive green armor with orange highlights. It was cylindrical on one end and had a somewhat bulbous figure on the other. Wearing protective eyewear, she welded a section atop of it, conjoining two armor pieces to form the one. Occasionally, she would set the welder aside to use a wrench to tighten a fastener or two, ensuring it was rock solid. Holding the wrench in her mouth for quick adjustment.

However, her head slightly bobbed to the music playing through her red headphones. All the music talk from Hana got her searching for "classics" to listen to while she works and playing in her ears was some vintage R&B "club banger" from the early-2000's, sung by some woman. Despite being laser-focused on her job, she was really getting into the song, having had it on loop for the past hour. The movement of her head bobbing gradually moved down her body the more she got into the song. Swaying her head side to side, then her torso, and then her hips. Bastion noticing her swaying, cocking his head in curiosity.

Finally, she finished welding the armor piece and let it cool off. Next, she slipped it over her left forearm, where it fit snug around her. She smiled at her good work, and now, started to really get into the song. Her movements becoming more exaggerated and her humming becoming louder. Mouthing the words as if she was singing aloud by this point, and she stepped back and began shimmying, moving back and forth between the workbench and Bastion. Putting her hips and shoulders into it, working up more of a sweat on top of the one she got from working. Moving and snapping her movements every time with the beat, synchronizing with the lyrics. She twirled around and immediately saw Bastion, still looking at her in confusion. She kept smiling and shimmied over to the sitting omnic, Bastion tipping his head to the other side as she got closer. She held her hands out and hovered them over his rectangular "cheeks", shaking her body side to side as she slowly retracted her arms and fluttered her fingers.

"Rweeeooo?" were the only words Bastion could express at that moment, unable to comprehend what the human just did to him.

Brigitte laughed but kept shaking her booty as the song got close to ending before playing all over from the beginning again.

Meanwhile, Nathan just stood in the doorway of the workshop, carrying a haul of parts and scrap metal he retrieved over his shoulder. He just watched her dance around the workshop floor, oblivious to who had just returned with the things she needed. Then, he felt a finger tap on his shoulder.

"Umm… Should we notify Brigitte of our return?" asked Orisa, who stood next to him with a bunch of junk tied to her behind. Courtesy of the Waster.

"… Should we?" he asked back.

Suddenly, he felt the air rush by his cheek when Ganymede flew by in a green blur. They watched the bird fly into the workshop and land on Bastion, who greeted his friend upon their arrival. The bird proceeded to affix a piece of thin metal it had into its nest, which still laid untouched on his shoulder. However, when Brigitte noticed the bird, she finally looked towards the door and froze faster than Mei's experiments. Quickly getting her headphones off.

"Hey… uh… You're back!" she exclaimed, her face becoming red.

"Uh-huh, what are you listening to?" Nathan asked, walking inside with the extra supplies and setting them down.

"Oh… uh… Nothing."

"You sure were moving a lot for nothing."

Brigitte's blushing only got worse, before she started groaning and brought her hands up to her face to smother herself. Orisa got concerned and was about to approach her, but Nathan scoffed as he held up a hand to stop her. He patted Brigitte on her tattooed shoulder.

"It's alright, I won't tell anyone," he reassured her.

"Please don't," she said.

"As long as you help fix up my new shotty, no problem."

Brigitte looked at him, her face still flushed as a tomato, but her embarrassment slowly subsided and she began smiling again. Laughing, even. Realizing how silly she must have seemed when they walked in on her. Nathan turned to Bastion and gave him a pat on the chassis. Bastion beeping to him.

"When I get back, I'll make sure I will," she said, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

"Get back? Get back from what?" Nathan asked, turning away from Bastion.

"Ah, I forgot to tell you! I'm going to be deployed on a mission tomorrow with the others."

"With whom?"

"Reinhardt and my dad, obviously. Also, Jesse, Fareeha, and Angela are going to be going, too. A lot of people."

Nathan's ears perked when he heard that last name, but he didn't do anything else as he stood there with his hand still on Bastion's chassis. Hearing wings flapping and seeing Ganymede land on his shoulder, looking at him. The bird's little head cocked to the side.

"Even Dr. Ziegler?" he asked, his voice laden with subtle surprise. "Sounds serious."

"It… is," Brigitte sighed. "I'm only surprised we haven't gotten to it sooner. Everyone's been preparing for it, and so have I. Honestly, I'm a bit anxious, but hopefully, we'll only have to be out there for a few days. You know, you're really lucky to be on leave. I'm jealous! But… You've certainly earned it."

"Did I? Well, it gives me an excuse to be doing stuff around here."

"And a great help you've been!" she compliments, walking over to where he was and putting a hand on the armor plating they gave to Bastion. Knocking on it to ensure it was sturdy.

Then, Brigitte felt something rubbing against her leg and she looked down to see Tiger brushing his cheeks against her pants. He looked up at her and meowed, and she bent down and scooped the fluffy cat into her arms. Once she had him firmly against her chest, she gave Tiger a long kiss on his fluffy cheek. Coddling him like a baby.

"And I certainly will miss you!" she said to the cat, giving him more kisses on his head.

Nathan watched before stepping over and petting the cat she held. Feeling the soft fur on his head, giving a little scratch behind the ears like a dog. Ganymede cautiously regarded the cat as he perched on Nathan's shoulder. Tiger looked at the bird, pupils dilating for a second.

"Regardless, good luck," Nathan told Brigitte, giving the cat one last pat.

"Thanks," Brigitte smiled at him.

"Anything else needs to be done?" he asked, looking around the workshop.

"No, actually, I think we're done. We're actually ahead of schedule for what I've wanted to do. Thanks to you, of course."

"Can't take all the credit, but if we're done here I think I'll turn in early. See ya', Brigitte. Try not to get killed."

Brigitte blinked but knew that Nathan was just saying "goodbye" in his own special way. Probably a more common greeting from where he's from. However, just as he turned away and was about to walk out she called out to him.

"Hey, uh, Hana wanted me to tell you she has something to show you. Don't know if you'll be interested?"

Nathan paused, confused for a moment but quickly realizing what that could be. He had a sneaking suspicions Brigitte was involved with the kid's plan, whatever it may be. What was her angle?

"I'll keep it in mind," he said. "Goodbye."

He waved his hand back at her and walked out of the workshop. However, upon doing this, he realized he didn't have a set destination in mind. Realizing he had already exhausted the options of things he planned to do for the day, possibly even the week. All the chores being done before he realized they were. Then, he remembered the names Brigitte listed off, the ones who were going to be shipped away on another mission. Remembering Dr. Angela Ziegler being one them. It was at this moment that he also realized he hasn't done anything for her or the infirmary. He didn't even bother to ask. Probably was too busy to realize that, even if she was one of the busiest people on base.

'Goddammit, I'm getting old…' the Waster was disappointed with himself for not being on task, again.

Before he went further, he turned around to get Bastion since he almost forgot to bring him along, too, but stopped when he saw the omnic on his feet and just… "Chatting" with Orisa. The two, large omnics conversing with each other as Ganymede flew around then. Orisa complimenting Bastion on his new look and saying how she was "excited" to be working with him for the coming weeks. The older omnic booped, Nathan understanding that he was basically saying "likewise". Ganymede then landed on Orisa, perching his little feet onto her right tusk. She jumped, at first, her eyes becoming wide like they always did when encountering something new, but they quickly emoted "elation" upon seeing a new, feathery friend. Nathan just watched them, before deciding to leave them in peace.

Bastion was outgrowing him, already.

* * *

When Nathan walked into the infirmary, the first thing to greet him was the clean and sterile smell. Oddly feeling set at ease the moment he walked in, knowing that there should be a doctor nearby. Looking around, the place looked as pristine and shiny as it always did, the floors, the walls, and the ceilings as clean as a doctor's coat.

Offering to sweep the floors was off the table for him, now.

Second, the rows of cots that immediately ahead did not have anyone in them. No patients covered in bandages or near the brink to be treated. No one left for him to assist Dr. Ziegler with, all of them most likely in a clean bill of health to begin with, out and about somewhere. He expected no less of someone like her.

Yet, Dr. Ziegler was nowhere to be seen, and Nathan found himself alone in an empty and quiet clinic. Not even the sound of idle medical equipment to be heard. He thought it was odd, considering she was almost always in the Medical Wing as if it was her own quarters. Probably was, for all he knew. Which made not immediately finding her a little disconcerting for the old Waster.

Suddenly, he heard laughter and snapped his head to his left where Dr. Ziegler's office was. The door was closed and the windows were frosted, so, he couldn't see what was happening inside. But curiosity got the better of him and he slowly walked over to her office door. He was being careful about where he shifted his weight in his step, making sure he didn't make the floor or walls. As he inched closer, he tilted his ear towards the office to listen better but making sure to not get too close to the wall to not alert anyone inside. The voices got slightly clearer once he got closer, and he felt a small tinge of relief when he discerned the source of the laugh to be Dr. Ziegler. She sounded like she was in the middle of a conversation with someone else. Leaning in just a smidge closer, Nathan tried to discern who that voice belonged to, the room's insulation proving to be quite the eavesdrop-deterrent. Eventually, he heard what sounded like an electronic reverb within his tone.

"Uh… Nathan?"

The large Waster jumped at the sudden interjection and bared his teeth as he spun around to whoever spoke. A split-second later, he calmed down and saw the person who snuck up on him was Dr. Ziegler's assistant, Aida. In her doctor's coat and wearing a holopad close to her chest.

"Oh, it's you, Aida…" Nathan said somewhat hushed, stepping away from the office door. "You made my heart jump."

"Sorry! Do you need help?" Aida asked, looking back at Angela's office.

"No, I just… I just came by to see if any help was needed in this place. I figured Dr. Ziegler or you probably needed something done here. Although, looks like you have things squared away."

"I've heard you've been going around Gibraltar, lending a helping hand. I appreciate that. While I don't need any help with my chores, I'm sure Angela might have something for you."

"You've heard?"

"Yeah, the Watchpoint isn't too big, so word tends to get around. I've also heard about your leave. Are you doing okay? Angela told me-"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it," he said, not wanting to be constantly reminded why he was a frequent visitor to the Doctor.

Aida's brow furrowed but she simply nodded out of consideration.

The clinic was then filled with more noise as the door to Dr. Ziegler's office opened behind them. The first one out was Angela, holding the door open for someone else as she left the office with them. The one that went after her was Genji, who was still chatting with the Doctor as he walked out. Then, to Nathan's surprise, a third person exited the office after Genji, his brother – Hanzo. Sporting a quaint smile as he regarded both his brother and Angela. Not saying anything as the two of them talked, keeping quiet and only listening to them. However, he lost that smile the second he looked up and saw the large frame of Nathan, who didn't have a smile, to begin with.

"Again, thank you for the wonderful meal!" Angela said to them, smiling. "It's been some time since I've had good sushi."

"Thank you for eating with us, doctor!" Genji responded. "It was nice to sit down and have a nice conversation with the one who saved me… And the one who almost killed me in the same room. Isn't that right brother?"

Hanzo took a second to respond as his focus was somewhere, but he quickly caught himself and regarded the two, again.

"Yes! It was… Pleasant, brother," Hanzo said, regaining that quaint smile. "Thank you, doctor, for your time. I… Haven't had a conversation like that with other people for some time."

"The pleasure was mine," Angela returned, bowing her head a little. "I was glad to be of help."

It was at this moment she finally noticed who else was in the infirmary with them when she turned her head. Her eyes lit up upon recognizing who it was.

"Nathan!" she exclaimed, surprised she hadn't spotted him sooner. "You're here!"

"Nathan! What brings you here, my friend?" Genji asked.

Nathan looked at them, unsure what to say despite telling Aida the reason just a few moments earlier. As he regarded them, his eyes landed on Hanzo, who stood behind Genji and Angela. Nathan looked at him for a second too long before he blinked.

"Came here to see if you had any work, Dr. Ziegler," he answered, crossing his arms. "Figured you might be busy and need a load off your back. Basically, I just want to help."

For some reason, the blonde Doctor blinked, and her smile faded away when he said that. Nathan noticed, losing the reassuring smile he tried to put on to make his offer seem less disingenuous. It wasn't like him to just offer his assistance out of the blue, he was more than aware of that. Fortunately for him, Angela's regained her friendly demeanor.

"That's… Good to hear," Angela commented, that smile slightly growing. "I can't think of anything off the top of my head, right now, but we can look in my office if there's something you can help with. Just give me a moment, please."

"Of course, Doctor," Nathan said, graciously nodding.

She smiled once more before she looked back at the Shimada brothers. The Doctor escorted them to the infirmary's exit, exchanging farewells with them.

"Goodbye, Genji… I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow?" Dr. Ziegler said.

"That where our paths have determined, yes. See you, then, Angela," the Cyborg Ninja said to her before looking up. "Goodbye, Aida. Goodbye, Nathan."

Aida wished him goodbye and Nathan deeply nodded.

"And I guess I'll say the same for you, Hanzo?" Dr. Ziegler said, addressing the older brother.

"Yes, it seems so," the Archer said, nodding. "Thank you for being a gracious host, Doctor."

Of course, when he looked up his smile faded. Nathan narrowed his eyes slightly, his teeth clenching a little. Thoughts of fucking him up only flashed for a moment in his mind. Only a moment.

"Farewell," is what he only said to the rest of them.

Finally, the Shimada brothers left, leaving the Doctor, her assistant, and the Courier alone in the quiet and clean clinic. After the door had closed, Dr. Ziegler turned around and Nathan rose his head.

"Please, step into my office," she said, inviting him in as she walked inside.

Nathan stepped forward but cast one last glance towards Aida before walking into Angela's office. Aida smiled, he nodded.

Stepping into her office, Dr. Ziegler closed the door behind him. Nathan then stood there and looked around her office, taking in what he saw. In the middle of the room was her desk, a modestly-sized table where a computer, some stacks of papers, and a few binders and folders were neatly organized, with some cabinets and drawers on its sides. Surprisingly, it was made of wood – a light coffee colored shade of wood. Almost instinctively, he reached out and rubbed a finger alongside it, seeing no dust on his fingertip. On the wall to the left of the desk, there was a bookshelf with an assorted array of items, ranging from office supplies to more stacks of papers, and books, but it was sparsely populated of those. It acted more like a display case than serving the purpose of storing books. And on the opposite wall was just some old, corduroy couch that almost spanned the entirety of the wall it was seated against. At one end of the couch, there was a tall lamp almost as tall as Nathan. Finally, to the back of Dr. Ziegler's desk, was a large window with an envious view of the Mediterranean. As if this facility was designed with trying to give the occupants a view of that sea at every opportunity humanely possible. It didn't smell as sterile as the rest of the clinic, but it was cozy.

"Hmm…" Nathan let out as he kept examining the room. 'Not a bad place to enjoy some coffee,' he thought.

"Sorry if my office is messy," Angela said. "I haven't had the time to properly clean it."

"Hm? Oh, no, that's fine doctor. It's just that I don't think I've ever been inside your office until now."

"Really? I thought you had been in here, before?"

"Apparently not… Odd."

"Well, depending on how you look at it, that could be a good thing," the Doctor said to her visiting patient before walking up to him and gesturing to his right forearm. He held it out to her and she gently grabbed it with both her hands to see if it healed nicely since the last time she treated him. "How are you feeling, Nathan?"

"Fine, I guess," the patient answered. "How about you? Thing's been alright?"

"Better than usual, although, I have been making myself a little crazy trying to be on schedule."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. You're here to help ease the burden, though, right?"

"Exactly why I'm here, Doctor."

"Then, let me see what I can find."

She smiled and walked around her desk to where her chair was. After taking a seat, she scooted up to her computer and tapped a button, making several holoscreens appear in mid-air. Nathan's eyes snapped to these, seeing some that were reports, notes, patient listings, and other medical related things. However, some of them weren't medical related, one appeared to be a newscast about some conflict in Russia featuring a paused video of Russian soldiers engaging what appeared to be omnics. Another holoscreen had something more innocuous, a recipe for a chocolate beverage. That certainly caught Nathan's attention before Angela swiped it away along with some of the others.

As she kept searching through her computer, Nathan noticed a box set aside from her computer that had assorted food separated into their own little sections by built-in dividers. It looked like one of those old TV dinners he'd scavenged, except the food looked fresher and the box wasn't made of cheap metal but a sleek, black wood. There was some leftover rice and what he presumed to be sliced fish, with a pair of chopsticks over it. Two of the "sections" were devoid of food, finished by the doctor.

"Hey, what's that?" the Waster asked, pointing at the box.

"This?" the Doctor said, gesturing to the box. "Oh, it's a  _bento_  box. Genji made it for me earlier, for lunch."

"Huh, didn't know he could cook… Was it good?"

"It was very good. I had a nice meal. You should try it, sometime. I'm sure Genji wouldn't mind making one for you if he has the time."

"Then I'd have to make something for him, to repay the offer. Not sure he'd like Waster cuisine, though."

"If the ingredients were fresher, he might like it. I did," Angela smiled up at him.

Finally, Angela summoned a holoscreen that looked like a checklist of duties, responsibilities, and chores she had made for herself. Most of the things listed already had a checkmark in their respective boxes and were crossed out, though. Only seeing more of that as she scrolled through it.

"Hmm, it doesn't look like I need anything to be done, right now," Angela said, leaning in to look at her list. "Of course, that could change soon, but… It looks like I'm good here, for now, Nathan."

"Huh," Nathan said, also leaning in to get a closer look at the list. "So, it does. That's surprising."

In all honesty, the busy, working Waster felt a tinge of disappointment when he learned he couldn't be of any use to the good Doctor currently. The one that's treated him so many times by this point. He figured there would've been  _something_ to help her with, to show his appreciation. Hopeful that there might be.

"It really is, isn't it?" Dr. Ziegler said, looking up at him. Then, she closed her eyes as she let out a deep sigh and leaned back into her chair, making it roll back a few inches. But before she did that, she reached up to the back of her head and pulled off the hair tie that kept her ponytail in place, letting her blonde hair loose. They only fell short of her shoulders but hid every part of her head except her face. That caught Nathan's eye.

"For once, things have been on schedule," she smiled, looking towards her window. "It went the way I wanted them to. No sudden complications, no problems with the equipment or supplies. Things ran smoothly for once. Of course, there was that debacle with the Junkers recently, but that got quickly resolved. I was glad to hear you got through that unscathed, as well, Nathan. One less visit from you to worry about."

Angela smiled as she looked up at Nathan, but she saw him just staring at her, almost blankly. As if he had not registered what she just said.

"Nathan?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," he realized, before gesturing to her hair. "I've never seen your hair like that. Kinda threw me off for a loop."

"Did it?" she asked, brushing some strands aside from her forehead. "First my office, and now my hair? We must be setting a precedent today!"

"Yeah… So, as you were saying?"

"As I was saying, things actually worked out the way they were supposed to and I'm glad they did. I feel proud of myself for that one, for once. Of course, I have Aida to thank for much of that."

"She's a good kid. Glad you have someone like her helping around," Nathan said as he glanced over to the office door, wondering where Aida was now.

"I'm very much in agreement. Especially since we were able to get all the important things done just in time."

"'Just in time?'" Nathan questioned, then remembered what Brigitte said earlier. Getting tired of standing and stepping over to Angela's desk. Turning around and leaning against the top of the desk, still regarding Angela when he got closer. "In time for what?"

Because of where he sat and the placement of his right hand as support, he accidentally un-paused one of the holoscreens and it started playing with sound. Sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the office as the video featuring Russian soldiers in the snow was what he un-paused, Nathan now watching it. The headline "Russian Offensive Against Omnics Continues" as clear to him as the footage of the Russians fighting giant omnics. Some of them like the big stomper back in Numbani.

"For that," Dr. Ziegler answered, looking at the holovid before turning to Nathan.

"…To Russia?" he questioned further, realizing where she was going to be shipped off to. "To a warzone?"

Then, it all just  _clicked_  for Nathan. Realizing why everyone on base seemed to be in overdrive for the past couple of days. What they were alluding to when he asked them what had been acting as a flame under their asses, what they were preparing for. What they seemed anxious about. He's surprised it took him this long to not get an answer, especially since it seemed to be such an easy one for him to find out. He could've just asked, sooner.

"Yes, I chose to be deployed there," Angela answered, earnestly looking Nathan in the eyes. "Almost everyone did once we found out how…  _Grave_  the situation had gotten over there. Only degrading further and further as the months went on, unable to act upon it earlier because of our lacking capabilities. But now… With the favorable conditions that I understand we were able to achieve, thank God, we should be able to, now."

She looked back to the holovid, Nathan doing so, as well. The newscast kept playing but now showed civilians walking away from the rubble – their homes. Some of them crying, others trying to hide their grief. Escorting them were soldiers, decked out in winter gear and toting AK variants he's never seen. One of the soldiers on camera was significantly taller and brawnier than the others and wore white armor plating with blue highlights and winter camo clothing underneath that. However, that soldier caught Nathan's attention because of the bright-pink hair she had on her head, very out of place in a battlefield. Still, she didn't look like a pushover and as soon as she spotted the camera recording the people shambling away from their destroyed homes, she angrily marched over and swiped at the camera lens. Making the news cut to different footage.

"And I guess I have you to thank for that," Angela then said, making Nathan look back at her. "For helping us get there so we can finally help them."

Nathan glanced to the holovid, seeing more snow. He reached over and grabbed the lower-right corner of the holovid, bringing it over and looking at it for himself. Watching war in Russia. He'd never thought they would show stuff like this on the news.

"Didn't think that's what I was doing," he admitted, putting the holovid aside. "You gonna be alright, over there?"

"I'll be with everyone else, so… I should be," she said with another smile directed to him, before reaching over and pausing the holovid. "I'll mainly be tending to the sick and wounded while everyone else deals with the 'omnic menace'. Don't worry, Nathan, your bodyguard skills won't be needed this time. You can go back to enjoying your leave when we're gone and do… Hmm, what do you like to do?"

"Right now? A whole lotta nothing. And to be honest, I'm not exactly sure if I'm keen about having the only doctor that's been fixing me up these past few months be thousands of miles away."

Dr. Ziegler's friendly demeanor faltered for a moment, realizing the concern she might be putting Nathan through once she leaves.

"…I'm sorry to do that to you, Nathan. I hope you underst-"

"But!" Nathan continued, holding up a finger. "But… If you're gonna be over there helping them, then I guess that means I've done some good. About time I did."

"Nathan…" Angela said, shaking her head. "You think you haven't done good?"

"To be honest, Doc? I'm not sure. A lot of things, here and back home, make me unsure. But maybe now can be a… Good step in the right direction, whatever that may be. Maybe that's helping you, who knows?"

He got off her desk, arms still crossed, and walked away. Towards the couch.

"And maybe that can start with me watching your office while you're gone. The clinic even!" Nathan exclaimed, flopping his large frame down onto the right side of the sofa with a satisfied moan. Feeling himself sink into the cushion, the fabric softly brushing against him. Then, he pivoted himself and lied down on it, his head on one cushioned end and feet on the other. Luckily, the couch was more than long enough to fit him. "Although, I'm sure Aida already has that covered on both fronts. I guess I'll watch over her, too. I dunno, what do you think?"

When he looked over, he saw Dr. Ziegler with the most bewildered expression he's ever seen on her. As if the man she was looking at was not the same one she was speaking to just moments earlier. He would've thought he just made her worried until she smiled warmly once more.

"I guess I would have nothing to worry about, then," Angela said. "So long as you promise to behave and make sure everyone is taken care of in my absence, of course."

"Sure thing, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan said.

"And I have to admit, I don't think I've ever seen you this relaxed!"

Nathan Brin looked at himself, his torso and legs splayed over the couch. He just shrugged, but he realized a sight like this was only once in a blue moon. Not recalling a lot of instances where he casually crashed onto a comfy couch. It didn't feel too bad.

"Yeah, I guess we are setting precedents," the Waster said, sitting up on the couch. "So, are you sure you're going to be fine without me there?"

"I promise, Nathan, I will be. Just if you make sure my office is still in one piece when I come back."

"Maybe I can fix you up some lunch for when you do? Not in one of those ' _bento_ ' boxes, but something to keep it neat and tidy."

"…Sure," the blonde Doctor accepted, looking up at him with those blue eyes. "That sounds nice. I'll look forward to it."

Nathan sat there and addressed her when she accepted, looking back at her with his auburn eyes. Smiling quaintly, he finally got up from the couch and nodded to Angela.

"If that's that; Goodbye, Dr. Ziegler! Stay safe," Nathan wished.

"Thank you, Nathan," Angela responded, also standing up from her chair. "You, too."

With one final nod, Nathan walked away and towards the office door. Grabbing the knob and swinging it open, he walked through the doorway and left her office, closing it behind him. Alone again, Dr. Ziegler stood there and looked at the door he just left through, holding her hands in front of her. After several moments of silence, as she stood there, staring at the door, she finally let out a big sigh of relief. Looking down at the almost finished bento box.

On the other side of her door, Nathan took another step forward but suddenly stopped, standing there for several moments as he just stared ahead and thought about what just happened. Almost feeling himself not breathe, until he finally relaxed again and took a deep breath through his nose.

'It's a wonder she wound up here,' he mulled to himself, thinking about her. 'Too good for her own… Good. God, I hope she'll be okay.'

Getting it out of his system through another breath of air, he walked to the exit of the infirmary. The door sliding open and then close, he was out into the hall again and immediately turned right to go back to his quarters. He stopped when he spotted someone scrambling to get behind a wall as he was about to.

Freezing up for a second, he instinctively put his hand over his holster and slowly walked over to the wall. Careful where he was shifting his weight, he inched closer and closer to the corner. His hand twitching centimeters above his sidearm. Finally, he arched his body over and peeked around the corner to find Hana in a tank top, sweatpants, and slippers making a futile attempt to hide.

"Kid?" Nathan said aloud, dropping his defensive stance and stepping around the corner to address her.

"Oh, hi!" Hana exclaimed, quickly shifting her weight and leaning her elbow against the wall. "What's up, dude?"

"Why were you trying to hide?"

"Hide?! I wasn't hiding!"

Nathan just narrowed his eyes at the young woman, which was enough to make her drop the charade and not make either of them jump through hoops, again. They were around each other for long enough to pick up on some unspoken things. He practically saw straight through her when he did that. She made a defeated groan, not wanting to be under that scrutinizing gaze for any longer.

"Look, I asked Athena where you were, and she told me you were at Mom's for some reason, so I came here to ask if you could…" she started to explain but trailed off as she broke eye-contact for a second.

"Could what?" Brin pressed.

"If you could…" she trailed off again, wincing when she did. Realizing she was using up precious time, she grumbled and shook her head before going on, rapid fire. Just to get it done with. "I was wondering if you could come with me and listen to some music I think you might like?!" Hana finally said, feeling like a massive weight got lifted off her the moment she finished.

Looking up, Nathan's gaze had shifted to one of mild confusion.

"Oh, this… Why…?" the Waster questioned.

"…I dunno," Hana admitted, shrugging. "I thought it would be fun."

"Is that why Brigitte was asking me about what type of music I liked when we were working?" he pointed a finger at her.

"…Maayyyybeee…"

"Ugh, kid!" he threw his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose, tired from her antics. "I'm not sure what you're trying to do but I'm not sure I have the time for it. Maybe later. Thanks, but no thanks."

He patted her on the shoulder before walking past her and back out into the hall. Hana pouted, shifting her eyes to Nathan before she stamped her foot and turned around to face him.

"There might not be a next time, though!" she exclaimed, not loudly, but enough to make herself be heard.

"Is that so?" Nathan asked back, still walking.

"Yeah, because I'm going to Russia with everyone else!"

The Courier stopped, looking over his shoulder to see Hana facing him with an irritated – almost hurt – expression on her face. Her hands clenched into fists. Yet, her eyes were fiery and determined to get him to stop and listen. Which she did.

"You're going to Russia?" he asked, fully turning around.

"Yeah…! Yeah…" she answered, loosening her stance. "I was hoping to show you what I found and see your reaction before I get sent off tomorrow. I wanted to since you seem so… So…"

She tried to find the right word to express what she thought, probably having trouble due to English not being her first language, despite already being so proficient with it.

"Frustrated!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "I don't know, I thought you would need to chill."

"I never asked you to do this," Nathan said, apprehensive about it.

"I know. I just thought it would be nice to do."

For what seemed like the longest second, Nathan just stood there and regarded the young Korean girl who offered him to listen to  _music_  of all things. Something so simple yet unexpected. He has noticed what subjects he seems to discuss with her every time they get stuck with each other, but he never thought they ever amount to anything more than passing the time. In retrospect, that would make this partly his fault. Making her go through all the work and effort to just collect music for him. All of it before a deadline, too. Certainly, there could've better uses of her time. She had much more of it left than him, anyway.

"Fine," Nathan relented, glancing at his Pip-Boy's clock. "Show me."

Hana's frustration dissipated for a moment, and she gleamed.

* * *

"Kid, this sucks," the 40-year-old Waster said as he sat on her bed, wearing a pair of wireless headphones connected to her computer. He was sitting there after agreeing to be dragged along to one of her schemes. What followed was a barrage of mediocre music and shoddy songs flooding his ears for the better part of an hour. Songs that Song was adamant he was going to like.

And yes, the headphones glowed an annoying shade of pink and blue.

"Really? Not even this one?" the 19-year-old Korean asked, more surprised than offended from his honesty. She was sitting in the office chair for her desk, manning the controls for the massive playlist of songs she had amassed.

"Yeah, I kinda dig this one," the 26-year-old DJ, Lúcio, said, wearing his own set of headphones and sitting on the bed, but lying down with his head resting on the foot of it. "Nice, mellow, uses real instruments and a real voice."

"Sounds like it was sung by someone whose balls haven't dropped," Nathan mocked, frowning further the more he listened. "Is that really a man singing?"

Lúcio stifled a laugh when he said that, while Hana sat there and frowned at him. Nathan unaware of Lúcio laughing behind him because of the music.

"Looks like it," Hana responded, looking at the holoscreen and seeing the artist's face on the thumbnail.

"Eh, sorry, kid. I'll pass on this one."

She looked over her shoulder back to him, mentally sighing in defeat for this one as she went back to scrolling through the list. Trying to find a more suitable piece of music for him to listen to. Unaccustomed to wearing headphones for so long, Nathan took them off for a moment to clean his ear out, especially because it started to itch. Feeling all the sweat starting to stick to the skin in and around his ear. Felt almost disgusting and he wondered how they could stand wearing them that long. After he had relieved himself of that itch, he looked over to Lúcio and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Did she drag you into this?" Nathan earnestly asked.

"Pretty much," Lúcio shrugged, lifting one side of his earphone to hear him. "Helped her collect a bunch of songs for this playlist because I'm a musician. Stuff that she and I thought you would like. I'm not sure why she decided to do this, but hey! It's the thought that counts, right?"

"What did she offer you?"

"An autograph."

Nathan furrowed his brow.

"Must be one expensive autograph," he grumbled.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Lúcio responded. "I'm not gonna sell it, though. No need."

Nathan looked at him, wondering what he meant by that. Then, Hana gestured to them as she found another song for him to listen. He already began gritting his teeth before he put the headphones back on. Aside from the sweat and heat, the headphones themselves were at least comfy and fit around his big head. He wouldn't be caught dead wearing these anywhere else, though.

"How about this one?" Hana said as she tapped a song which had an album-cover that was just a black "X" against a green background. "It's older so you might like it."

'How old?' he thought before he leaned forward onto his knees and started to listen. The song opened with the strumming of a guitar half-a-second before the singer spoke up. It was male, but he still sounded like his balls were clamped.

" _When your legs don't work like they used to-_ "

"Nope!" Nathan sat up and shook his head, repeatedly.

"Really?!" Hana exclaimed. "We were barely one second into it!"

"Already don't like it. Again, it sounds like it's being sung by a teenager! Is that what they all sound like?"

"A lot of them, yeah. During the early-2010's," Lúcio answered, still chilling on the bed.

"Kid, you said you looked up  _vintage_ music, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I did!" Hana said, getting a bit defensive about the queries for which she searched music. "And I got all these  _hits_  and  _classics_  from the early-2000's and such. I swear!"

"This isn't the vintage  _I'm_  accustomed to."

"What is? Can you at least give me some names?"

"I… Great, I can't remember because we listened to so much crap already."

"Not even a date?"

"It's Pre-War! They all are!"

"'Pre-War?' You mean before the Crisis?" the Brazilian DJ asked, his brow furrowed.

Nathan snapped his eyes to Lúcio, realizing who they were in the room with. Not the first time he had a 'slip-up' with him close-by. Probably getting too used to having him in his vicinity. God help him if Nathan got drunk with him or Satya close by. At least they won't be in the same room together.

The Waster shifted his eyes to Hana, who also had a look of concern. Their frustration and anger starting to simmer down now for their own sakes.

"Uh, yeah," he quickly answered, saving face. "Music before the crisis.  _Long_ before the Crisis."

"All of that was before the Crisis, though?" Lúcio said, still seeming confused. "Or, do you mean earlier?"

"Yeah, probably. A few decades, give or take. I guess you can tell I don't really listen to the music I like, can't ya'?" he bullshitted to appease him.

In all honesty, he couldn't really give less than a fuck about what type of music they knew he liked. It didn't seem relevant nor necessary to go through all of this, and he could feel the frustration boiling over not just in himself. He only agreed to come along to appease the kid and maybe make her feel better, but he felt her at the end of her wits, too. He was surprised at how calm the DJ was throughout the entire process, though. Not bothered by most of the comments Nathan made or him constantly fidgeting with the lent headphones. Just making light of the situation, even if it all seemed silly – a bunch of younger people trying to help one older person listen to some music. Not a situation he was expecting to get himself stuck in here.

Unfortunately, for Nathan, the kid was relentless and still pushed on in trying to find the "right music" for him. Whatever that was supposed to achieve. Honestly, he just felt bad.

"Okay, but before that!" Hana held up a finger before bringing it over and tapping another song on her computer. It had an album over consisting of the portraits of four drawn characters in a 2x2 grid with the word "Gorillaz" above it. Nathan never understood why so many of these artists and songs had spelling errors.

Then, in his ears he heard the sudden shriek of a psycho laughing, almost making Nathan jump to kill a raider before realizing that was the song she had selected. Almost in shock that a song would open with that. Even Hana quickly realized her mistake and paused the song, looking over to see an agitated Waster.

"The fuck was that?!"

"Sorry!"

After they had calmed down and against all sensibilities, the three went forward with the catalog of music, Nathan being pelted again and again by music he just could not get into. There were a few he gave longer listens to than he would on average, but it would eventually end with the song being cut short by a shake of his head. However, to their credit, most of the songs didn't consist solely of an electronic noise, which he appreciated greatly. Having a more "natural" feeling to him, if that's what he had to call it. Still didn't beat Mr. New Vegas' playlist.

This venture started to take its toll on everyone in the room when the sunset and the room was thoroughly dark except for the computer's lights. Both Hana and Lúcio yawned while Nathan kept checking his Pip-Boy's clock more frequently as they kept going.

Currently, they were listening to a band from the 1990's, having gone a decade earlier to strengthen their efforts. It seemed promising, at first, given how the song they picked opened with one of the most intense electric guitar riffs Nathan ever experienced. Almost intense enough to make him ignore the fact the album cover had a naked baby on it. But then, the singer started singing once the guitar calmed down.

_"Load up on guns, bring your friends_  
_It's fun to lose and to pretend_  
_She's over-bored and self-assured_  
_Oh no, I know a dirty word"_

'Well… That's fucking dark!' Nathan legitimately shocked with what he was listening to, wondering how this song even became a "classic" in the first place in this world. However, despite that initial reaction, he kept listening to the song instead of throwing the headphones off. Founding himself strangely intrigued yet stunned by what he was listening to. As the song went on, the instrumentals and lyrics only became more distorted and convoluted. The singer becoming downright unintelligible at certain parts of the song. But at least not sounding like a kid. A morbid curiosity being the thing that kept him listening until it stopped. Fading away with one last screech and riff.

There was only silence afterward, the Waster trying to process what he just listened to. If raiders like the Fiends ever became cognizant enough to make music, that song is probably what they would make. The opposite of what the band's name is supposed to be.

Nathan's shock must've been visible because when he looked up he saw Hana looking at him with bated breath. He turned his head to see Lúcio sitting up and looking at him, no longer lying down.

"You just finished an entire song," Song stated, her slightly ajar but it slowly shifted into a leer. "Did you-?"

"That was probably the raspiest, grimiest, and grungiest singer I've ever heard," Brin responded, taking off the headphones and putting them onto her desk.

"But did you like it? You listened to it without stopping!"

"I did… But I'm not sure I did."

Taking a deep breath like he had a huge weight lifted off his back, he checked his clock one more time and stood up to his full height. Stretching with his arms reaching the ceiling.

"Wait, are you gonna go now?" Hana asked.

"It's getting late," Nathan said, feeling the joints in his shoulders and arms pop. "You have to be deployed tomorrow, right? Get some rest, kid, you'll need it."

"But we barely just got into the pre-2000's! There's, like, one more song I want to show you!"

"And how do you think that will play out? Face it, kid, I'm an old dog set in his old ways. As I said, it's getting late."

"But it's not even…" the young woman began, summoning a digital clock then seeing that it was getting late. Later than she planned it to be. "Oh."

"Yeah. Thanks for this, anyway, kid. I learned a lot. Stay safe in Russia."

He placed his hand on her head and ruffled her hair, making it frizzy and causing her to growl as she batted his hand away. Passing by Lúcio, he nodded to him and was soon out of Hana's room, the door sliding open and close for him.

"That went out better than I expected," Lúcio said, content with himself. "He was rather chill about."

Not taking long to get to his room, he wasted no time getting his clothes off and taking a quick shower to clean the day away. Scrubbing extra hard around his ears. Afterward, he walked back out into his room feeling almost exhausted and sat down at the edge of his bed. The music-listening session with Song drained substantially more energy from him than he anticipated. As rubbed his hands into his face, he saw Athena appear on his desk but at a tolerable brightness in the dark.

"How was it?" Athena asked.

"Exhausting," Nathan answered.

"Well, I hope you aren't about to sleep, yet, because Hana just sent this."

Athena's screen was replaced with a black-and-white picture. The coloration catching his eyes, Nathan squinted in the low light as he got up and walked over to the computer desk. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was a black-and-white picture of a man with circular glasses, long hair, and a floral pattern shirt looking at the camera. Above him were words, what he assumed to be another title for this album.

"'The Essential  _John Denver_ '," Nathan read, only frowning further in confusion. "Who the hell is that?"

"A singer," Athena answered. "Apparently one Hana thought it'd be imperative for you to listen to before going to bed."

"She's relentless…" Nathan only shook his head, his patience already thinning and just wanting to go to sleep. Not wanting to suffer through another "vintage" pop song. "When's this one from? Early-2000's? 1990's, again?"

"1971."

Nathan looked up at Athena when she said that. That was the oldest song he's heard of from her playlist, so far. If his math was correct, that would make this song more than a hundred years old in this world. Older than everyone, even the older members of Overwatch. The songs he liked were well beyond that in his world.

"Alright, play it," he said, without really thinking. "I still got some stuff to sort. I could use background noise."

"Of course."

Walking over to a corner of his room where his belongings were somewhat messily strewn about from earlier, he heard the song begin with the gentle strumming of a stringed instrument supported by the constant but soft, rhythmic beating of a drum. A second guitar joined in before the male vocal, presumably, the "John Denver" on the cover, began singing.

" _Almost heaven… West Virginia_ ," a soft but not meek male voice sang with an old, radio-like reverb. " _Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River._ "

Nathan Brin stopped and raised his head to the music. Looking over his shoulder to see that singer's face still on his computer, a little bar on the bottom that moved as the song progressed.

" _Life is old there, older than the trees_ ," John Denver continued, catching Nathan's attention. " _Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze…"_

_"Country roooooooaaaaaaaaddddssss, take me hoooooooommmmmmeeee_   
_To the plaaaaaaaaaaaaaacccceee I beloooooooooooooooooong!_   
_West Virginiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, mountain mammaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_   
_Take me hooooooooooooooommmmmeeeeee, country roooooooooaaaaaaaddddssss!"_

For what felt like the longest thirty-seconds sitting there, the old Waster from New California sat there on his knees and listened to this 100-year-old song about a man singing about home. His home out in the country, in a place that sounded very far away. Singing with an assortment of homegrown and natural instruments that didn't detract anything from this song.

Quickly, Nathan got to his feet and practically scrambled to sit down onto his office chair to properly listen to this song. Once he was seated, he just sat there and stared at the holovid that played, even though the image was as still as he was. He just kept listening, taking in the words and the sounds. Feeling himself relate to a songwriter that has been dead for half-a-century. Memories of his home playing in his mind as the music did. Memories of the roads, the country, and the mountains. Of the Mojave, New California, and Arroyo. Feeling more homesick than he ever did in the past few days. The past few weeks, even! Almost surprised that he was just sitting there and…  _Listening_ to some old song. Like's he's done so many times before.

Never expecting a good country song in this world. That's why he kept listening.

" _Take me hoooooooooooooooooome, down country roooooooooooooooads  
Take me hooooooooooooooooooome, down country roooooooooooooooads!"_

And like that, it was done. One last strumming of some strings and that was it. The room becoming quiet, again, and Nathan just sitting in his chair. Staring at the computer, wearing nothing but his boxers. He leaned back in his chair with that empty feeling that song had given him. And the resurfaced memories of North California.

"…Huh…"

After another minute of sitting in silence, staring at nothing, Nathan sat up and reached over to his desk and picked up the photo of him and his friends at Jacobstown. Looking at that picture more and more in the past couple of days. Yet, for some reason, he imagined another photo in his head. One that wasn't real but felt like it. One that could if things kept going the way they were. He didn't know when his ticket back home will come up, and he certainly wasn't going to stop looking for it or working towards finding it, but…

"…Nathan?" Athena called out, more than concerned with how silent he's fallen.

"Athena… When does everyone leave for Russia, tomorrow?"

* * *

It was another beautiful morning in Gibraltar when the sun came over the Mediterranean in the East, but the agents of the New Overwatch had little time to enjoy it, unfortunately. Currently, in the early hours of the day, the Watchpoint had become the busiest it had ever been ever since the Recall, as dozens of Overwatch agents marched and ran across the hangar bays. Teams heading to their respective dropships as support personnel carried supplies, munitions, and equipment. However, outside one of the MV-261 Orcas, things were a bit calmer as several agents waited for their squad mates.

"Morning, Doc," Jesse McCree greeted, getting in one last smoke before deploying as Dr. Angela Ziegler walked up to the door ramp.

"Morning, Jesse," she greeted back, not entirely dressed into her Valkyrie suit but carrying the rest of her outfit in a duffle bag in one hand and her staff in the other.

"Have a good night's rest?"

"No. Not at all."

"Pre-Mission jitters?"

"I guess. Where are the others?"

"Fare, Lena, and Hana should be inside the ship. Just waiting for Brig, Rein, Torb, and everyone else to show up. Pretty big operation."

"No doubt. Especially for our precarious state in the world. Hopefully, things will pay off and we can help the people afflicted in Russia, but I'm still unsure."

"About what?"

"About… leaving Gibraltar. It isn't the first time, I know, but… I don't know. It feels like I'm leaving something behind."

Jesse tugged one corner of his mouth before he stepped over and place his human arm on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, you'll be fine," he said, looking down at her. "I and the other will make sure of that. You are our doctor, after all!"

Angela looked up at him with those exhausted eyes, nodding at him and thanking him.

He smiled back before he dropped his hand and went back to smoking again. However, when he looked up, his eyes widened when he spotted something behind the doctor. "What the…"

Upon noticing, Angela turned around and immediately spotted Nathan in his black armor with his pack slung over his shoulder, his rifles on his back, and his helmet under his arm. Walking towards them and the ship.

"N-nathan?!" Angela exclaimed, as he walked up to them and stopped in front of her.

"Morning, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan greeted, unfazed by her reaction.

"What- uh- W-what are you doing here?!"

"Coming along. Going to Russia with you guys."

"But but- You're supposed to be on leave! Why are you-?"

"I got tired of it."

Angela shook her head, looking up at him with a very incredulous expression. Equally shocked and surprised.

"Nathan, you seriously don't think that I'm… That  _we_  are going to let you on this mission?! What are you even thinking?" she questioned, very seriously.

"I already cleared it with Athena and Winston, Dr. Ziegler," Nathan responded, straight-faced. "They were somewhat confused, at first, but I convinced them that it wouldn't be a bad idea to let me join in this mission."

"And what makes you think that?"

"I can shoot well, I'm experienced with wild terrain, I've dealt with war machines before, and…"

The Courier reached to his belt, producing a Pulse Grenade in his palm.

"I've got equipment that could prove more than useful."

Even with all of that, Angela couldn't lose that scowl over her face. Staring at Nathan straight in his eyes. The Doctor now wide awake with frustration, surprise, and concern bubbling up within her. However, even as she shook her head, she looked down at the Pulse Grenade in his hand. Setting her staff and duffel bag down, she reached over to his hand and made his finger wrap around the grenade before she wrapped her hands around his. Holding him firmly as she earnestly looked up at him, almost pleading with her blue eyes.

Meanwhile, behind them and in the ship, Hana stuck her head out.

"Hey, what's going on?" she questioned, before spotting what was happening outside. Her eyes becoming wide and her becoming ajar. Seeing her "Mom" hold Nathan's hand as she looked up at him, very earnestly. "Oh…"

"Please,  _please…_  Be careful out there!" she demanded of him, her eyes becoming a bit fiery in that instant. "I'm begging of you, please!"

Nathan, even though he did a good job hiding it, was taken aback by how forward and adamant Dr. Ziegler had become once she learned the Waster will be coming with them to Russia. Although, he appreciated the concern she had for him. Deeply.

"Don't worry. We all should be safer if we all stick together, right?" he asked, trying to lighten the situation.

"We should, but you never know," she responded.

With that, Nathan nodded and stepped over to the door ramp. However, he stopped and turned back to Dr. Ziegler and motioned to the ramp.

"Ladies first."

* * *

"Looks like they didn't do a bad job," Jack commented as he was perched on a mountain overlooking the old Jean Correctional facility. His red visor the glowing in the desert night. "A bit sloppy, and it looks like they let some stragglers go, but… Not a bad job."

"So, they're armed  _and_  dangerous?" Ana responded, her blue visor regarding him.

With the scope, she carefully observed the wide area before them and scouted out areas of interest. Of course, there was the old prison – now more of a ruin – especially with multiple dead bodies and signs of fighting all over its fenced perimeter. A couple hundred meters or so West of the prison, there were wreckages and abandoned vehicles in a dirt trail leading to it. On the opposite side to the East, where they were situated, there were multiple tracks that showed more vehicles that ended up running away from the fight. Little sign of a struggle. They didn't really expect less from bandits holed up in an old prison.

"Did Jesse ever mention a Deadlock post out here?" Ana asked. "Back when we were still legitimate?"

"I don't know, that felt like a lifetime, ago," Jack replied. "This does look more like a recent encroachment, though. Deadlock's gotten bolder. Reyes should've cleaned them up a long time ago."

"Jack!" Ana was quick hit him on his shoulder, only making him look at her in annoyance.

"What?"

"You're doing it, again."

The mask was always good at hiding his reaction when he realized what he was doing. When he started to let old memories take him away to somewhere where he wasn't. Distract him from what he was trying to do in the now.

"Sorry," he grumbled, shaking his head.

"It's fine, Jack," Ana said, looking at her old friend before looking back towards the prison, seeing if she missed anything in her scope.

"So… You figure out how you're going to make it up to Fareeha, yet?"

"Not yet," she glumly said, eye still focused on her scope. "I'll try to think of something. Hopefully, by the time we figure out what's happening here."

"I know you will."

Her former-Strike-Commander nodded in understanding, turning his gaze back out towards the prison ruins. However, as the old soldiers continued observing the old prison and the area around it, Morrison looked to their left and immediately spotted something far away in the distance. His old eyes still sharp, even in the dark.

"Ana!" he called, reaching out to her. She looked up from her rifle to him. "South. About three clicks in the distance. You see that?"

Ana quickly displaced and went in front of Jack before taking a kneeling stance on her right leg, propping her support arm's elbow over her left knee. She was quickly able to find and center her scope over what Jack had spotted and easily saw the set of flashing red-and-blue lights in the night. An entire column of flashing red-and-blue lights heading north on Interstate 15.

* * *

Goodsprings, Nevada, Mojave Desert

The Courier's Search Party had only been in the alternate Goodsprings for what was roughly a day, but in that short amount of time since they were picked up by some old man and his grandson – after saving them, of course – in their dumpy, old truck, the town had changed remarkably with their arrival. Well, more accurately, the town's atmosphere rather than the town itself.

They went from being nobodies and strangers in a not-so-strange land to the saviors, heroes, and stars of this ghost town. The outsiders unknowingly throwing the town into a festive and cheerful spirit when they returned from the prison after running out the bandits. Every man, woman, child, and omnic quickly and surprisingly threw together a celebration for the outsiders, of course holding it in the town saloon. Music, food, and alcohol galore, more than what this town seemed capable of producing. Where this town seemed dead and barren when they first arrived, it had become one of the liveliest sights this side of the Mojave Desert. Impressive, especially considering how old much of the population was even when they finally got out, but there were still quite a few young people out, as well.

A lot of the townsfolk wore smiles, nonetheless, happy that there was someone who helped them. Isolated in the desert for so long.

They were so happy the party did not lose steam as it lasted well into the night, the entire day spent celebrating the heroes from nowhere. And while those heroes did have someplace to be and someone to find, they couldn't just immediately skip town. Not to mention, there was free food from the saloon, free of charge. They didn't have to pay for the drinks, as well.

For dinner, Veronica joked that she would be fine with a burger but didn't expect the waitress to come back with the biggest and juiciest slab of ground beef between two hearty buns she's ever seen. Slathered in some type of gourmet sauce with cheese melting on the beef, not to mention, a side of the most fried potato slices she's ever seen on one plate. Boone, sitting with her, helped himself to a large beef steak served with a side of beans and a baked potato. The beef was juicy and bloody, and the beans – although, cautious at first from personal experience – were the freshest he's ever had. For once, probably younger than him. And the baked potato was dressed like something from the Ultra-Luxe, with as much, if not more, flavor without the "pork". The dogs next to their booth were far easier to please and just helped themselves to big steaks on plates for each of them.

Over the course of their dinner, the Wasters got quick, little visits from numerous townsfolk wanting to show their gratitude or drop off a beer they bought them. At first, they were off-put by the sudden approaches, Veronica more than Boone, but over the course of the day they eased into the feeling of being thanked by the townsfolk. Not a feeling they were used to, directly at least. One person came up holding one of those black rectangles with her.

"I hate to be a bother, but can I take a quick selfie with y'all?" she asked, smiling but a little meek in her tone.

"A what?" Veronica asked.

"A selfie! Y'know, a picture! With you and your dogs!"

"A picture? Uh, sure!"

Smiling even more, the lady knelt next to them and brought her arm up. Holding that black rectangle in her hand, the Wasters watched the black mirror turn on and show the image of three people all huddled up next to each other. For a moment, they could see their own surprised expressions on the small mirror before the lady tapped some white circle that was on the screen and it flashed white with the sound of some unseen shutter coming from the device. After that, she quickly looked at the screen before smiling up at the Wasters and thanking them, then going on her way. They just stared at her as she walked away, however, Boone looking at Veronica for clarification.

"I thought those things were phones?!" she exclaimed, the saloon's music making her unheard by everyone else, thankfully. "I didn't know they were also cameras!"

"That was a phone?" Boone questioned.

After going into a little tirade about the technology in this world and Veronica joking about how Scribes she knew would have wet dreams about the things they've seen so far, they went back to just enjoying their dinner. More than earned after a long day. Eventually, creating empty plates and full bellies, but still filling those bellies with the occasional sip of beer. With the party at the saloon still in full swing, they now had an opportunity they haven't had the privilege of for some time: Relax.

"I gotta admit, I think we did the right thing," Veronica said as she sipped her beer, also one of the tastiest she's drunk.

"You 'think'?" Boone asked, sipping his own.

"Yeah, the food alone nearly makes it worth it. And… It feels good to be doing something like this, again. Helping people in need, making sure the bad guys lose. That sort of thing. It brings me back to when it felt like I was doing something that meant something. Even if that wasn't what it was always like or how it was."

She dropped her gaze for a second before taking another sip of her beer.

"Certainly, wasn't that cut and dry all the time, even traveling with Nathan.  _Especially_  with Nathan," she said. "You think he ever… Was proud about anything?"

"Him? Of course," the 1st Recon Sniper said, leaning into his seat. "We did a lot of things when we traveled together. Went to a lot of places. Helped a lot of people. There's bound to be something, shouldn't there?"

"Is killing Legion one of them?"

"Without a doubt."

Veronica smirked as she regarded her NCR friend. However, that smirk did disappear rather quickly when she started thinking about it again. Thinking about what happened in the past. Stuff that had her concerned and wanting answers, before she even left New Vegas.

"Hey, I have to ask…" Veronica began. "You were the last one among all of us to see Nathan, right?"

"When I was out on leave or patrol, yeah," Boone answered.

"Did you talk to him? Speak to him about anything, the weather, the raiders?"

"Yeah. Every time we'd spot each other either one of us will come by to say 'hello'. Not often, but every now and then. Why?"

"How… How was he when you talked to him? How did he act? What was he like? I heard that he's become rather  _different_  than what we knew him as. Especially after…"

Veronica paused, trying to come up with the words for what she wanted to describe. However, she just became frustrated.

"After a lot of shit," she continued, unwittingly an apt description regarding who she was talking about. "I just don't want any surprises when we do find him."

"Yeah… I know what you mean. Nathan's still the same old, same old, but, when I talked to him and asked him how he was? I knew something was off. I just hope not for the worse."

The Sniper broke eye-contact with Veronica and reached over to another bottle of beer that was left for them, this time it would be his third. Using the counter to pop the cap off, he pocketed the piece of metal and wasted no time taking a hearty gulp of the beverage. His Sniper eyes then scanning the saloon, he watched dozens of people enjoying their time, enjoying their life with alcohol and food. The music that played was still unfamiliar but enjoyable for the Wasters. Not feeling completely alien to this Mojave town. However, as Boone's eyes kept scanning, he spotted Parmley at the bar, sitting at one of the stools. Getting rather intimate with one of the local girls. Arching an eyebrow, he poked Veronica to get her attention and guided her by pointing at the bar to what he spotted. Taking a second, she spotted what he did and huffed in disbelief.

"Jeez, I almost thought that was Nathan for a second!" she exclaimed, then laughing to herself. "He's just missing half-a-foot and black hair."

"Fun memories, isn't it?" Boone asked.

"Yeah, if you call living in fear of being run out of town because he plowed someone's wife 'fun'."

"You know he wouldn't do  _that_."

"I know, but it wouldn't kill him to keep it in his pants every time we went somewhere that had females in it! Sheesh, I'm afraid to learn the damage he's incurred  _here_!"

After Veronica shivered from that sordid thought, Jennette walked up to their booth with Joseph in tow. The boy taking care to pet the dogs first before sitting down with the omnic opposite of the Wasters.

"Y'all enjoying the dinner?" she asked, her tone ever-friendly.

" _Enjoyed_  the dinner," Veronica clarified, groaning as she rubbed her stomach. "It only hurts a little."

"Heh, I'm glad to hear that. Gladder, still, to see the town in such high spirits now! Thanks to you and your friends! We're more than grateful, here. Everyone."

"Hey, don't mention it! We're just doing what we do. Just a couple of Wasteland Heroes!"

"'Wasteland Heroes'? That sounds so cool!" Joseph spoke up after hearing that term. "I wish you guys could stay so you can tell me more about where you're from. It sounds so cool!"

"It sure does, Joseph," Jennette said, hugging him close to her. She looked back to Veronica. "But I'm still wondering: What happens after this? You guys are going to part ways with us soon and are gonna go off and find your friend. Are you guys gonna be okay, out there?"

"Yeah, we will. We've been doing good so far," Veronica said, exchanging glances with Boone. "It might take some getting used to, you know, being in an entirely different dimension and all. But I have a feeling we'll find him, somehow. Or he'll find us, he's good at that. As I said, we just need to be pointed in the right direction."

"Sorry if I've asked before, but what is your friend's name? His real name, I mean."

"Nathan. His name's Nathan."

"Really?" Joseph piped up, seeming disappointed by the revelation. "That's a boring name."

"Joseph!" Jennette was quick to scold him before she looked up and just sighed. "Well, it isn't what I expected from someone who looks so intimidating and scary on the holovids. No offense, of course. He just left an interesting impression on the news."

"So, I've heard," Veronica cast another smirk towards Boone, who returned one to her. "Anything else I should be aware of."

The omnic just stared at her, her faceplate unreadable but her stance subtle. She adjusted herself in her seat before leaning forward, a little.

"Yeah, actually," she began, her tone cautious. "Since you're not from here and judging from how you reacted since you first saw me, word of advice: there are more people like me out there in the world.  _A lot more_. 'Omnics', is what we're called. Long story short, we have a complicated history with humans and whoever you may come across, human or omnic, may question your stance on the subject matter."

The Waster's immediately thought of Ghouls and Super Mutants back home. Seems like some problems never go away wherever you are.

"Wait, but no one seems to mind you here? Is there still animosity?" Veronica asked.

"Like you would not believe, sweetie. Especially in certain parts of the world," Jennette glumly stated.

"I see… Well, I'm glad to have met an omnic like you."

Then, to their right, Senior walked up to the booth table but with Billy in front of him. The old man had an obvious smile that didn't completely overtake his face. Meanwhile, the Sheriff looked like he was suffering from alcohol withdrawal. When they got to their table, Senior gave Billy one look and gestured to the Wasters, who was looking up at them in anticipation. Finally, after some deliberation, Billy reluctantly dropped several metallic and small squares that were no bigger than a Legion Denarius. They weren't sure what they were, at first.

"Credit Chips, all for the bounties you turned in," Billy sounded out, not at all exhilarated that the town was rid of the gang. "E$100,000."

"Wow, that sounds like a lot…" Veronica said, picking up one of the Credit Chips and taking a closer look.

"It's more than he makes in a year," Senior happily said, pointing to the Sheriff.

"Yeah… Can I go now?"

With another stern look from Senior, Billy brushed past his shoulder and retreated further into the saloon, wanting to be away from them. Everyone at the booth watched him go, some of them happier than others.

"I'm hungry," Joseph said, breaking the silence he left.

"Alright, let's get you something to eat," Jennette responded, getting up with him and through the saloon.

Boone scooped up the credit chips into his hands and addressed Veronica. "I'll tell Parmley of our good fortune if he isn't too busy. After that, we should start devising a plan."

"Sounds good," Veronica said, Boone leaving the booth just a second later.

Then there were fewer, Senior standing and Veronica sitting. The dogs were there too, but they weren't much for conversation.

Without saying anything, Senior just shook his head and went over to sit opposite of Veronica in the booth. As he did so, the music in the saloon changed to a new song.

" _Almost heaven, West Virginia…_ "

The old man paused for a second to process what was playing over the speakers before he just grumbled and shook his head. Once seated, he grabbed one of the dozen gift beers and cracked one open. Quickly taking a drink from it.

"Now I'm drinking here at night," Senior said, nodding to himself. "Doesn't feel bad."

"Not at all, Senior," Veronica replied. "Not at all."

"Just call me Clark. I fuckin' hate that nickname."

She smiled, nodding in agreement.

The next few minutes were then spent in silence between themselves, Clark just drinking his beer and Veronica mulling in her thoughts. The song that was playing was very nice and Veronica liked it, but Clark seemed to loathe the longer he kept listening to it. Fortunately for him, the song eventually ended, and she watched him physically slump in relief.

"How come you don't like those songs?" she asked.

"What?"

"The song that just played and the one that played in the car when you first picked us up. It was about some fruity drink, I think. Why don't you like them?"

Clark just looked at Veronica and took another swig from his beer before answering, "My wife."

That took a second for her to understand, remembering the pictures he saw in the house.

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry to hear that. Di-did she like them?"

"She  _loved_ them," Clark looked her in the eye. "Always listened to them on repeat, practically 24/7. Drove me crazy every time I would hear her just listening to those songs, even through her earphones. Sometimes waking me up in the morning. Memorized the lyrics through her, as a result. Still hate the songs but they remind me of her."

"I see. I'm sorry I brought that up."

"Why would you be? Ain't your fault she's gone."

He sat there, thinking about what he just said and looking at the bottle he was drinking away. It was almost gone, and he raised it as if he was about to finish it, but he just placed it down on the table.

"And if you're wondering, my son – Joseph's father – is also dead," he said, sitting up and leaning onto the table. "But I'm sure you already figured that out."

"…Yeah, I did," she honestly admitted, seeing no reason to tiptoe around that subject anymore. There were enough clues for her to figure out. "He was the Sheriff?"

"Was. And he did a damn good job at it, too. Proudest day of my life when he earned that star. Helped keep the peace in and around town. Knew everyone and everything in Goodsprings. A lot of the young people usually skip town the second they can find a job elsewhere, but not him. He stayed home and worked for home. And things ran smoothly, more or less, when he was in charge until… Well, let's just say a certain gang rolled up into town."

His old features became grim for a moment, easy enough to miss or hide in the dark-lit corner of the bar. But when he brought his head up, he had another gratified smile giving him more wrinkles.

"But now they're gone," he said, looking at one of the people responsible. "I'm impressed. You didn't fuck up, and either killed or sent those chickenshits running. I'll be a bitter sonofabitch till the end, but you made me happy for one day. I guess all that bullshit you told me is true. Good enough, I suppose."

"We're happy to have been of assistance," she smiled, taking her bottle and holding it up to him. "Cheers!"

They clinked bottles, polishing off the rest of their beers. After that, the ex-Scribe sat there and thought about what just happened, remembering that they were in an alternate dimension Goodsprings and that her friend was somewhere out there with some organization that everyone knows and yet doesn't know. What she did know was that she and her friends just liberated a town from bandits and were having a party thrown in their honor. They had made new friends, new allies possibly. Not long after their escape from some random facility in the middle of nowhere. She still didn't know who  _those_ people were, but she'll find out eventually. Veronica's still a sharp tool, she just didn't have much of a shed to live in for a long time.

However, she was broken out of her thoughts when she saw in the corner of her eyes something metal coming towards her. Startled when Jennette grabbed her and looked at her.

"You need to come outside, quick!" the omnic said, an unnerving tremble in her mechanical voice, before helping her up from her seat and leading her to the front door. Rex and Cooper followed.

Outside onto the porch, feeling the chill air blow against her, Jennette led Veronica further into the road until they stopped, and she pointed down at something in the distance. Squinting at first, she quickly saw what looked like a collection of flashing red-and-blue light over the night horizon, growing steadily larger and larger the longer she looked at it. Eventually, Boone and Parmley ended running out of the saloon to see what was happening, too. Along with several other patrons.

"It's the police," Jennette said, catching Veronica's attention. "There's too many of them. I think they're here for you!"

"What?!" Veronica exclaimed, feeling her heart jump. "Why?! We didn't do anything wrong! Uh, maybe they're here for the bandits?"

She was suddenly blinded when a bright light from above shined upon them, Veronica throwing up her arms to shield herself. Wincing and blinking a dozen times, she looked up and saw an aircraft hovering above them. A black helicopter hovering over them and the saloon, kicking up dust and sand where it was. Almost drowning out the noise from the saloon. Then, its speaker blared.

"Everyone, this is the U.S. Federal Marshals! Get on your knees and put your hands on your heads! Any attempt to run or flee will be met with appropriate force."

Staring up at the big light in the sky, Veronica looked back at the caravan of flashing police lights that were getting closer by the second. Probably not having long before they cross into town. Looking back up at the helicopter bearing down on them like some monolithic entity in the air, disturbing the ground with just its presence alone.

'U.S.?! Federal Marshals! Then that means-,' her mind was racing with a million thoughts, realizing the situation had taken a turn for the worse. 'Nathan!'

Suddenly, the night sky filled with light when several large explosions went off in the distance, where the lights should be. The column of lights stopped having been momentarily halted by what seemed to be a deliberate attack on them. Then, people started screaming and running when an automatic energy weapon started firing in the general direction of the helicopter. Veronica winced and covered her ears, scrambling to find the source of the gunfire. The helicopter also caught by surprise by both the explosions and the gunfire, began to veer away from the saloon and fly in the opposite direction. Blue bolts of energy flying and scaring it off further. The helicopter already on the other side of town when the barrage of energy discharge finally stopped. When the dust had cleared, Veronica laid her eyes on a man standing in the middle of the road, with one red line for an eye and a big gun in his hand. Boone was quick to draw his sidearm on him as he took one step forward.

"Jack, that was very reckless! You could've gotten someone killed!" Ana lambasted him over the radio.

"You got a better idea to scare off a chopper?" Jack asked back. "Cover me."

Undeterred by Boone, Jack stepped forward. He spotted three humans wearing clothing vastly different from the rest of the townsfolk and two dogs – one of them very unnatural in nature.

"Ana, you seeing this?"

"Yes. Looks like them."

"We've been looking for you," he said to them, getting within view of the saloon's porch lights. "You caused quite the stir. First the Watchpoint, now here."

When everyone saw the blue leather jacket, the red mask, and a big gun, a collective gasp occurred among the crowding patrons outside the bar, which now numbered in the dozens.

"That's Soldier: 76!"

"What's he doing here?"

"What is Overwatch doing here?"

The Search Party all glanced back to what that person said, now staring at the man in the blue leather jacket.

"Overwatch? You're with-!" Veronica couldn't finish as she heard the hammer of a revolver being pulled behind her head.

"All of you are under arrest!" Billy screamed, holding his sidearm and sweep it at all of them. "Back up! Everyone, back the fuck up!"

"Bastard…" Boone snarled, keeping his sidearm trained on the Soldier.

Jack craned his neck to see what was happening, twitching his head to the police, which was still on the horizon.

"Ana, we might need a solution-"

Fortunately, Billy couldn't do anything as the stock of Clark's shotgun slammed into the back of his head and sent him to the floor in pain. Kicking away his sidearm, Clark racked the pump of his shotgun and stomped his foot right on top of the Sheriff's chest. The muzzle of his 12 Gauge loaded for bear and pointed at his head. The old man snarling. Joseph was about to run out to his grandpa, but Jennette rushed there to make sure he didn't do anything rash.

"Alright, with that out of the way," Soldier: 76 said, bringing all attention back to him. "I don't who the hell you are and what you even did, but you need to come with us."

"Are you serious? Why the hell would we do that?!" Veronica spat out.

"Because either we take you somewhere where you won't end up in gov't custody, or they put handcuffs and haul you to a maximum-security prison."

"Why?! They're here for Overwatch and we're not Overwatch!"

"They see a group of individuals who wiped out a prison full of members from a notorious gang. That seems pretty Overwatch to me."

"Anyone worth their salt can do that!"

"What about escaping from a top-secret facility and leave a glowing crate in the process, beforehand?"

Veronica's eyes widened, realizing the effect that their actions there might've had.

"You-! I-!

"It wasn't hard to notice. Look, we don't have much time! You want to get out of here, or not?"

"How? How are we going to get out of here?!"

Her answer then came in the sound of jingling keys. She turned around to see Clark searching through his pocket and tossing his car keys to Veronica, who caught them in her palms.

"Take the truck," Clark said, looking at her.

"Clark…" Veronica struggled for words.

"Take the truck, take your belongings, and go! We'll handle everything with the Feds, here."

"But we can't-"

"That man has been with the New Overwatch for as long as I can remember. He's been in as many headlines as your friend has. He'll lead you to him."

Morrison's ears perked when he heard what the old man said, wondering who this "friend" was supposed to be. In the interest of time, he'll figure it out later.

"And thanks," Clark said, nodding to her.

Veronica clutched the car keys she held in her hand and looked ahead to see the truck still parked in between the store and the saloon, with all their belongings in the bed and trailer. Seeing their ticket to Nathan had come sooner than expected.

"Okay," she said, turning around to the masked man. "Let's go."

"What?" Boone questioned, still holding his sidearm firm.

"Outstanding," Morrison grumbled, looking back to the road to see some of the lights were starting to move. "Give me the keys."

Veronica held them out to him as he walked by, the keys snatched out of her hands and watching the strange Soldier walk over to the truck. The townsfolk giving him a wide berth. Glancing back at the lights, Veronica ran over to Clark and gave him a hug, making him jump for a moment but keeping that shotgun trained on the Sheriff. Veronica then did the same for Jennette and Joseph, who reciprocated the same feelings to her.

"You have to go with Overwatch, now?" Joseph asked, saddened by their sudden departure.

"Stay safe," Jennette said, her metal arms hugging her tight before letting go.

Soon, the other members of the search party said their own goodbyes to the Walkers and some of the other townsfolk before they made way for them to the truck.

However, before Boone went to the truck, he walked over to Clark and the dirty Sheriff of the town. Reaching down, he grabbed the shiny seven-pointed star on his uniform and ripped it off. Walking away, he didn't even look at the piece of metal when he threw it onto the pavement.

"Your town needs a new sheriff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading! Unfortunately, school is starting again (tomorrow, in fact, by the time I've uploaded this chapter) and the updates will begin to slow down, again. However, I was actually on time with this new chapter! Feels good, man.
> 
> Anyways, I'll see you all on the lowdown!
> 
> Pillock, out.


	58. Another Frontier

White. Blinding white. Everywhere.

Vision enshrouded in a white veil. Body enshrouded in a white veil. But it doesn't stop the freezing cold. It was the freezing cold.

It is the freezing cold.

And he felt it, as overwhelming as it was.

Only shivering in response to what he felt. To where he was.

Oh, God.

* * *

Nathan nearly shook out of his sleep, feeling subdued as he jolted slightly off the table and was blinded by the clean light of the dropship cabin. Resting against the table like he had overstayed his welcome at a saloon, again.

"Err… Fuck," Nathan grumbled, too tired to wake up but too awake to go to sleep.

Blinking a few times, he made eye-contact with the red-eyes of his helmet, first. The sight alone almost making him wake up. His insides becoming warmer.

"Good morning," Brigitte said to him, sitting in the seats adjacent to his in the booth, taking an earbud out when she noticed him starting to stir.

"Mornin'," Nathan responded, more weary than half-hearted. Digging his fingers into his eyes and promptly plopped back against his seat, shaking the shelf behind.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Just a couple hours," Brigitte answered. "Are you okay?"

"Nope."

"Sorry to hear that. There's some fresh coffee in that shelf behind you. Jesse made a new batch earlier."

"Thanks."

Brigitte replaced the earbud and went back to the holopad she was using. Drawing on a set of schematics she had on it.

Nathan turned around to the shelf and immediately grabbed a spare mug before pouring himself a hearty serving of coffee. He felt the heat around his fingers as he gripped the handle and brought it up to his nose to take a good whiff of the coffee. The aroma didn't relieve him of his stupor but at least it was something pleasant. When he took the first sip of many, it only affirmed what he learned long ago: that coffee from home had nothing on the simplest brews here. If you could even call the 200-year-old black powder that, anymore.

A few more sips were enough to help the simple man feel a tinge less miserable, warmth pooling in him, Nathan finally looked around the cabin and saw some of the other occupants were starting to get busy. Most of them gathering around the holodeck. Jesse, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, and Dr. Ziegler, to name a few. But there were some holoscreens with others who weren't in the dropship, too. Seeing Lena and Winston share one in this conference, most likely on a separate ship. Answering why it seemed quiet for the duration of the trip over here.

Glancing between the deck and his coffee, he quickly topped it off with more before taking another sip and getting up from his chair. About to join the rest of Overwatch before he realized he was holding his helmet. He put it back down at the edge of the table. Facing him.

He joined the rest of the crew, still getting intimate with the coffee. His arrival got their attention for a second, before more urgent matters retrieved it.

"Brin, you're here," Captain Amari stated, seeing who just walked in. "Glad to have you."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Nathan responded, downing more coffee.

"Right, as I was saying… We're rapidly approaching the LZ. Remember everyone, securing this area is the crucial first step we have to take. After this… Hopefully, the world will see differently, by then."

Nathan stopped mid-sip from the what she said. Looking at her holographic face in faint earnest.

"And from what I've seen about this… The Russians might show some thanks."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Torbjörn piped up. "Dealing with them in the past, Overwatch and otherwise, they can be… Well… Unappreciative about our efforts. Couldn't always blame them."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now, we need to secure that position for them. So, are we all ready?"

The agents of Overwatch gave a collected "yes" to the Captain, with Nathan being the notable exception, but he just sipped his coffee.

"Then I'll see you all on the ground. Good luck, we'll get through this just fine. Fareeha, out."

She, along with the other screens, blinked off, leaving the ones around the table to get ready for what lay ahead. Some dispersing more quickly than others, and Nathan just hovering over the desk for a few seconds more than needed. Taking in what he heard before he took a final sip of his coffee and set the empty mug down.

He walked over to the where his gear was, his helmet the first thing he grabbed. While the rest of his assortment was being taken care of, he noticed Brigitte put her pad away and slipped on a coat. Along with some belts of equipment and gear. Her father also noticed, walking up to where she was.

"Getting ready?" Torbjörn asked his daughter.

"Yeah!" Brigitte responded, smiling as she slung a backpack over her shoulder.

"Nervous?"

"A little, but someone has to be there to watch you and Reinhardt's backs."

"You're not wrong, but I was afraid you were going to say that."

Brigitte's smile quickly faded.

"What?" she asked, confused and frowning.

"Brigitte…" Torbjörn began, though pausing for a second. "Can you stay on the ship when we drop? Just for a short while! So, we can make sure it's safe before you and the others get down there."

"Why?"

"For your own safety."

" _Pappa_ , you know I volunteered for this. I know what I'm getting myself into! What makes this any different from last time?"

"That was an ambush. That wasn't supposed to be apart of the plan. But now that I know we're knowingly dropping into an area full of Omnics. Bastions, OR-14's - Full-blown killing machines! Things I know best. And because of that… I want you to stay on the ship. Just for a short while!" her father clarified again, holding his hands up as if to calm her down.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you, Reinhardt, or anyone. I want to help."

"I know, sweetie. I know you probably got used to all that. You can help as much as you want as soon as we're done. We have to make sure it's safe, first."

"Okay… Just this once," Brigitte reluctantly but eventually accepted.

"…  _Tack,_   _Brigitte_ ," Torbjörn graciously said.

Nathan had finished gathering his gear and went over to the opposite corner, where Reinhardt was. However, he still listened to the Lindholms until they were done. Nathan watching as Torbjörn walked away and Brigitte plopped down back into her seat.

"That went over well," Nathan commented, mostly to himself.

"Her father means well, without a doubt," Reinhardt said, quietly for once. "But… She has more than proven her worth to bring herself into the action."

"I can attest to that, a bit," Nathan said, rubbing his neck. "Girl's got some fight in her."

"Oh, yes, I am very aware of that,  _Ödländer_ ," the German smirked.

"I have a name you know."

"Ah, I apologize for my incessant use, then. Would  _Herr Brin_  suffice?"

"Air what?"

Reinhardt started chuckling to himself more while Nathan craned his neck up at him in all that armor. He sighed as he went back to his pack and grabbed what he would need at the ready, hooking a couple Pulse Grenades to his belt. Grabbing All-American next and inspecting it. Feeling the rifle rock in his hands as he racked the bolt a few times, as smooth as it always was.

"Hey, Brin!" Torbjörn called, breaking Nathan's train of thought and uttering a lowly growl under his mask. Certain the dwarf was waddling over to give him a piece of his mind for eavesdropping on that tender moment.

"What?" the Courier practically growled as he turned around but was surprised as he narrowly caught a small bag tossed to him. The contents of the bag clattered as it moved.

"You'll need those for your rifle," the Engineer gestured towards All-American. "Standard 5.56 isn't going to leave a dent in those tin cans."

Catching himself for a moment, he reached through the bag and retrieved a 30-round magazine for his rifle. The first thing that stood out to him was how black and sleek this magazine was, not scratched and beat-up like his magazines. The second thing was the ammunition they were holding looked like ordinary 5.56 except for the bullet. The tips looked as over-engineered as some of the Dwarf's other gadgets, even at first glance. Very different from his own AP's. There was green tape wrapped around this magazine and the others, but he wouldn't have any problems with distinguishing ammo with mags as high-quality as these.

"If there are problems with cycling, let me know," the Engineer before turning around without as much of a "You're Welcome".

"He's starting to like you," Reinhardt noted as he put his helmet on, his T-shaped visor flashing to life.

Nathan looked at him and the mags. Then, he tapped the back of the magazine against his helmet, rather stoutly, and inserted it into All-American.

"We are rapidly approaching the LZ," Athena informed the occupants. "ETA: five minutes."

Reinhardt nudged Nathan's shoulder, the Waster nodding as he slung the bag of mags over his shoulder. Just a couple more pounds of shit to carry.

"And it wasn't even that long," Nathan recounted to his break if he could even call it that.

However, as Reinhardt and Nathan were about to cross over to the other side of the cabin, Brigitte walked up to them.

"You guys be careful out there, all right?" she said earnestly to them, grabbing Reinhardt by the big metal forearm. "Especially you!"

"Ach, you worry too much, Brigitte! Acting more like your mother than your father, sometimes," Reinhardt exclaimed.

"I agree!" her father piped in from the other side of the cabin.

"I'll be waiting for you guys," Brigitte smiled.

Reinhardt placed a large, assuring metallic hand on her shoulder before walking away. Nathan nodded to Brigitte before joining Reinhardt and the others near the cabin door.

There, most of the agents gathered, some making sure they were geared up and ready while some conversed with each other before they were about to land. Probably to help shake-off tinges of nervousness or pre-mission jitters. Right of the door, Nathan leaned against the holodeck and reached for his Vault 13 Canteen, simultaneously flipping the cap open and lifting his helmet up. Taking a quick swig to help the coffee he ingested, then quietly put it away.

Nearest to him, in the corner that was a makeshift basketball court, Hana had her pink mech parked there as she did some last-minute checkups of her own. Chatting with McCree as she did so. Nathan found it hard to not hear her distinctive voice.

"Practice?" Hana asked Jesse, acting offended as she sat atop of her mech. "Please. I did tell you what happened back in Seoul, right?"

"I think that was more luck on your side for that one," Jesse responded as he examined the cylinders of his revolver, putting rounds in.

"Yeah, right. There was nothing lucky about that," Hana said, looking at her sidearm locked into the cockpit of her mech. "And if I want more practice, I'll just ask Uncle Nathan for that."

Jesse did a double-take as there was groaning behind. The Waster instinctively reaching to his back pocket and pulling out his pack of smokes, before staring at it and realizing he had his helmet on and was in an enclosed space. Grumbling more as he put it away.

"Huh, figures," McCree mumbled under his breath to himself before shrugging it off and flicking his wrist to swing the cylinders into his revolver.

All the commotion attracted Dr. Ziegler, donning her Valkyrie armor with her staff in one hand and the other resting on a satchel full of extra medical supplies slung at her hip. The glint of her halo catching Nathan's eye under his helmet, and the others. However, Nathan also just noticed they all were wearing coats and winter gear matching their styles.

"I entrust you two are ready," she asked Jesse and Hana, an attentive look in her eyes.

"You'll be watching over us, won't you, Doc?" Jesse asked. "We'll be fine."

"Yeah, don't worry, Mom. I read the reports, and these guys are nothing like the  _Gwishin_. With you guys and my mech, it'll be easy-peasy, I promise!"

"I hope you're not wrong, but remember Hana, we're here to help the people, foremost," Dr. Ziegler iterated.

The MEKA pilot's expression dropped the playful attitude for an understanding yet firm one. Nathan noticed.

"Yeah, that part is definitely not lost on me," the younger woman said, nodding. "I promise I'll do my best for them."

Angela's face softened before she stepped forward and gave Hana a quick hug.

"And don't forget to be safe, the other most important thing," the Doctor continued, letting go of Hana but still holding her shoulders. Dr. Ziegler then turned her head to McCree. "That also goes for you, Jesse."

The Cowboy only responded with a grateful smirk and the tip of his hat.

But Dr. Ziegler's smile faded a little when she looked just behind him, to his left, seeing Nathan Brin leaning against the holodeck. The Waster already decked out in his full gear with the exception of a duster, Angela wondering what happened to that. Only wearing a shirt under that cuirass, his arms more exposed than they usually were.

'He's going to be dreadfully cold with only that on,' Angela worried, but it was too late to find him a spare coat as Athena notified the crew.

"Attention agents! Arrival to the LZ imminent! Good luck, everyone!"

"You heard the lady!" Reinhardt exclaimed, grabbing everyone's attention in the enclosed space as he swung his hammer forward and at the ready. "We are about to enter battle! Another tireless, glorious day in Overwatch!"

"Hey, don't get carried away so soon, now!" Torbjörn berated, his metal claw spinning. "I still want to show these Russians how it's done."

"I'm sure you'll charm them," Angela surmised, almost rolling her eyes as she got behind the German.

Then, faintly, they could hear gunfire and explosions outside of their cabin. Getting louder the closer they got to their Landing Zone. It didn't feel like it was directed towards them, they hoped.

"Hope Athena can guide us through the AA…" Jesse admitted a bit quietly.

"Remember everyone! Our ship and Lena and Winston's will be the spearhead of this assault! The others will count on us," Reinhardt reiterated, slipping back into his old warrior spirit.

Nathan finally let the bolt slam forward, checking to see it chambered the ammunition properly. However, it took a few seconds for him to register what the Old German had just said. What he left his little vacation for.

"Wait, we are…?!"

No one responded as the cabin door opened above a cold, snowy landscape that billowed in as they flew. Nathan almost unable to see anything of the outside world as snow and Reinhardt obscured his vision. The cold was the first thing he felt.

"Good hunting, guys!" Hana wished them as she walked her mech up to the open door, priming her boosters. "I'll keep my wings in the sky!"

That pink egg became a pink blur as she rocketed off into hostile airspace and began engaging the enemy. Her cannons raining hell down at the targets below as enemy fire started being directed at her.

"Away she goes," McCree smirked over his shoulder to Brin, who grunted in response.

Now, as the sounds of the battle were starting to get close and the speed of the wind outside their ship slowed, they hovered over a patch of cleared forest just outside some settlement. The trees provided some cover, but they all knew they couldn't stay on those ships for long. Just a few more feet to go, and they were in it. Nathan having this other realization as he looked to his right to see Angela standing right beside him, ready to jump off.

"Charge!"

Reinhardt was the first one off as he took a giant leap forward and immediately threw up his barrier. Not even after everyone else got their boots into the snow, the barrier started rippling with several sources of weapons discharge directed at it. When everyone got off, the Orca quickly hovered up and away from enemy fire. Other Overwatch dropships on opposite sides of this settlement doing the same.

Now, Nathan realized, he was in it.

Without hesitation, the Courier ran up to the right of Reinhardt and began firing at figures in the distance through the blue transparent field, easing naturally into All-American and forgetting the break he took for the past couple of days. He watched several of these figures go down in sparks before McCree and Torbjörn could even join him. Angela bringing up the rear and keeping her staff tethered to one of them.

Nathan had to hand it to the Dwarf; All-American seemed to agree with the new ammo.

He was able to down one more defender before the first mag ran dry and inadvertently opened up an opportunity for this team to advance.

"We're clear! Move it!" Reinhardt yelled, dropping his barrier to begin running towards the burnt-out building, the others right behind him.

Even with the cold, the Californian trudged through the snow and was able to keep up with the Crusader Armor. His carbine's barrel the only warm part of it.

They eventually cleared the forest edge and immediately took cover behind what seemed to be a mostly-intact house. Nathan was the closest to a corner, so he quickly peeked around it and had a bolt of crackling energy nearly burn his helmet off. He was then picked up and plopped away from the corner when Reinhardt grabbed him with one of his large hands.

"Stay behind me!" he said before he went around the corner and threw up his barrier. "Now, my diminutive friend!"

Nathan watched as Torbjörn carried two devices, cranked them, and threw them onto the roof of the house. They made mechanical noises for several seconds until the clanking was replaced with rapid gunshots echoing from each of them, firing at any hostile present in their line of sight.

"Let's give 'em what we got!" Torbjörn exclaimed over the gunfire of his turrets.

The rest joined Reinhardt and made their way into the open of the village, the barrier soaking up incoming fire. Nathan and the others fired on these hostile machines, taking individuals down with ease but being mindful of their flanks and rear. Angela was right behind them when she noticed some movement to their right and saw a flash of red appear from behind a house heading right for Nathan.

"Nathan!" she called out before jumping right into him, both falling to the snow.

The bolt missed and struck Reinhardt, the armor shrugging off the attack. The Crusader yelled to McCree who spun around and delivered several magnum rounds into the perpetrator, making the omnic collapse to the ground with a spark.

Angela then quickly got off Nathan and helped him up, brushing off some snow from his armor and helmet.

"You really got to stop being a good doctor," he requested, shaking the snow off his carbine.

"A 'thank you' would've sufficed," she responded.

The sound of engines roaring over them and watching Song's mech fire a volley of missiles towards groups of targets surrounding them caught their attention, the two quickly joining the rest of their team.

Eventually, the group had made their way to what seemed to be the village center with a huge collection of omnics infesting the area in and around it, varying in size and function. Reinhardt kept his barrier up but warned his teammates to find cover if possible, in case his barrier were to fail. The kid in the sky hopping on a few rooftops and scrubbing omnics into scrap piles. Nathan's barrel starting to get properly hot as he put away his fourth spent magazine.

Some relief came when a streak of blue light appeared all over the center before an explosion sent a sizable group of omnics flying. Bursts of Oxton's Pulse Pistols downing the smaller targets as she evaded their fire and gave them breathing room.

"The cavalry is not late. Good!" Reinhardt laughed to himself as he maintained that barrier.

"I aim to please," Lena exclaimed over the comms.

But she wasn't the only one as other Overwatch agents, both Nathan could recognize and couldn't, started to appear and assist them in taking the town center. Amari doing fly-bys with Song to take out the larger targets, Winston getting rather close and personal to some of the defenders and either crushing or electrocuting them, and others providing supporting fire. It was by this point that Reinhardt dropped his barrier and began rocketing across the ground, throwing up snow like a plow. Crashing into enemy obstacles as he pleased.

These new rounds helped Nathan rack up quite a kill count in the first few minutes of this mission, a bit worried he was going to completely expel all the new ammo in the first hour. Some of the grunts armed with more advanced weaponry having trouble keeping up with the Waster. However, as he was amid a reload, he heard clanking stomps to his right and saw a Bastion unit. Not the Bastion he knew, but one completely painted black with a blood red eye. It let out a terrible cry that was unintelligible to him as it twisted and transformed into an autocannon. Nathan ducked to cover behind the old center fountain but the upper half of it was torn asunder, along with the structures behind it. Other agents immediately followed his lead as it began firing, unable to retaliate just yet. He reached to his belt and grabbed one of his Pulse Grenades, trying to lurch behind something solid as his cover was chipped away. But he watched a small disk fly through the air in front of him and plant into the snow, before emitting a glowing blue barrier like Reinhardt's and halting the gunfire. Nathan rocked his head back again as Orisa's gun began targeting the Bastion.

"There will be no need for that, Mr. Brin," Orisa clicked caringly before her eyes put on a "warface", again. "I got you covered."

He didn't say anything as he rose from cover and began firing onto the Bastion with her, her shield allowing them the opportunity. Other agents joining them.

When it seemed like it was the end, the Bastion reconfigured into a bipedal form to try and get away but was knocked to the ground by a large column of fire. Reinhardt then slamming his hammer down on top of it sealed the deal, probably taking down the heaviest gun in the village. After the Crusader retrieved his hammer from the mangled scrapheap, some bits of metal clung to it until he shook it off. Nathan walked up to the corpse of the Bastion, taking a closer look at how it was almost an exact copy of the one he knew. Its eye blinking back to life showed it wasn't a dead left, the blocky head focusing on Nathan. It tried to pivot its arm-gun to him, but he saw fit to fire a few rounds into its head before it could.

A distorted, mechanical roar definitely non-organic in nature made every agent stop and listen to the air. Brin decided to give his carbine a rest and summoned the Brush Gun from his rifle holster. Inserting AP ammunition, he created for it, not as advanced as Lindholm's but with a hell of a lot more powder.

"Reinhardt, I'm seeing movement heading towards the Eastern side of the village where you are. Closing in fast," Captain Amari exclaimed over comms.

"How many? I need more eliminations on my tab," the Crusader boasted, gripping his hammer.

"I can only see one… Everyone, take cover!"

Another roar echoed over the snowy land but at an earsplitting volume. The next second, the house Reinhardt stood next to crumbled as a large black, arachnoid automaton charged through it and let another distorted roar. It was like the monster in Numbani but smaller. Everyone within close proximity was knocked to their feet by the force and the rubble, except Reinhardt. Naturally, he tried to smash the thing but was a bit too slow as it tackled the German in power armor and onto his back. Pouncing atop him and trying to impale him with its two front legs, but Reinhardt grabbed them before they came close to scratching the paint.

Meanwhile, automated guns atop its hulls began firing at the agents within their field of view, forcing them to scramble for cover and try to fire back if possible. Nathan was still on his back and was a few meters away from Reinhardt and the omnic. Scrambling to his Brush Gun a few feet away, he unhooked one of the Pulse Grenades and threw it into the air, just above the omnic. Feeling things still for a moment as he hurriedly lined up the sight with the chrome object, afraid the winter air will obscure the silhouette. Nathan fired, and the grenade went off. As soon as the field of energy touched it, the omnic recoiled back like a struck beast, getting off Reinhardt and stumbling around the center. It was at this time Song landed right next to Reinhardt and began firing on the omnic, tearing it apart with fusion blasts. After being wobbling for several more moments, its spider-legs gave out and collapsed over the center fountain, the hull still sparking with electricity and twitching. The Courier walked up to the front of the omnic where its big red eye was and delivered two shots from his Brush Gun into it, obliterating the eye and its protective housing. The Arachnid stopped twitching after and shut off permanently.

Nathan ejected the spent cartridge and immediately began topping his weapon off with ammunition as there was the sound of a hatch opening behind him. He turned around to see Hana climbing out of her mech and onto the snow, then running to Reinhardt's side.

"Grandpa!" she yelled, crouching beside his right pauldron.

"I'm fine, Hana, I'm fine," Reinhardt groaned, his helmet no longer glowing yellow. Actually, he wasn't moving at all, aside from his head.

Nathan lumbered over to them, Brush Gun in hand, looking down at Wilhelm.

"It seems your gadgets work a little too well, Herr Brin," the immobile German stated, grunting as he tried to get up.

"You're still alive," Nathan responded.

"That is true," Reinhardt agreed as Hana helped remove his helmet, groaning when it finally got off. "Thank you. Both of you. Now, where is my gnomish friend?"

Nathan grunted in response and looked around the ruined village, now covered in dead omnics. He could still feel the heat off All-American's barrel on his back, normally scalding from the number of rounds he put through it, but he welcomed it in this weather. Needed it, really. The engagement's conclusion helped him remember that he was in the cold.

Jet engines roared as Fareeha landed next to them, walking over to Reinhardt and kneeling next to Hana.

"Are you all right, Rein?" she asked, tipping her helmet up to get a better look.

"Other than my immobility, I am fine," he said.

"That's good to hear. I'll send Torbjörn over as soon as he's done with something we just found that. Speaking of which, Brin, can you come with me? We might need to do some heavy lifting and we obviously can't do that with him out of commission for the meantime."

"Sure," Nathan responded, but silently peeved his smoke break was delayed.

As the rest of Overwatch's forces secured this village after properly rooting out the omnic aggressors, Fareeha took Nathan to the outskirts of the village, opposite side to where his ship had landed. There they found several large, metallic black crates that were lined up in a row next to each other. Torbjörn was getting to work on one of them, using his cybernetic hand to weld one of the crates apart.

"What are these doing out here?" Nathan asked.

"We're not sure. Metal's too thick to let any proper scans come through, but they have hinged openings," Fareeha explained, loading a fresh clip of rockets.

"Dangerous?"

"He doesn't think so. They seem mostly hollow."

After about a minute, Torbjörn finally finished welding one open. Then, Nathan was instructed to help him.

"I'll pull, you push," Lindholm said, his claw clamping onto a corner. "One. Two. Three. Push!"

They both began exerting force away from the crate while Fareeha stood watch. Nathan heaved and groaned as he pushed a slab of solid metal on a hinge, but it was able to give way, albeit slowly. And when the opening became human-sized, Nathan was quick to react as he looked inside and saw someone from within the crate run at him with a knife.

Dropping everything, Nathan grabbed the figure's attacking hand before slamming them into the snow. Instinctively and on autopilot, the Courier retrieved his knife as he kept the attacker's hand in a vice. And he was about to plunge his blade into them until Torbjörn's claw stopped him just in time.

"Brin, stop! That's a person!" Torbjörn practically screamed into his ear, his face becoming red hot. "They thought you were an omnic. Stop!"

It was only then that the Courier realized his attacker was a blonde woman with blue eyes, who couldn't have been out of her mid-twenties. She had dirt and grime all over her, with clothes that were torn and tattered. Her eyes stared up at him but peered a thousand yards through him. Almost as large as orbs.

The woman dropped the blade and began scooting away from the large man when he let go.

" _Oh, bòzhe mòi…_ " she said, the words obviously lost to Nathan and possibly the others. " _Kto ty? Kto ty?_ "

"Ma'am. Ma'am!" Fareeha took off her helmet and knelt down, making the lady jump at first. "Please, calm down. You're safe now."

The woman looked like she was taking a few moments to comprehend what just happened. Looking at the humans who had just saved her, until her eyes landed on Torbjörn. Seeing that made him lighten his grip on Nathan.

"Over… watch?" she tried to say a word not in her native language, gauging everyone's response.

Fareeha shuddered a bit but nodded her head looking down at the woman.

"Yes… We're Overwatch," the young Amari said, almost sounding like she was unsure to say it.

Then, the woman, just hostile and scared several moments earlier, started crying and reached up to Fareeha. Amari was a bit surprised when she wrapped arms around her, or tried to with the armor, giving her a kiss on each cheek before she went on bawling her eyes out.

Wrestling his arm from the Dwarf's claw, Nathan turned around and peered inside the crate. Two pairs of eyes staring back at him, scared and scooting into the corner. Brin stepped away from the crate and began walking away. But he stopped momentarily as he almost walked right into Dr. Ziegler, who had just arrived to see what they had found. Nathan then gestures his head towards the captives and crates.

"They need you," he stated. "I won't keep you."

Nathan stepped aside and brushed past Angela, looking over her shoulder, wondering where he was going and if he was all right.

"Torbjörn, get Vaswani and some of the others to help you open the rest of these," Amari ordered, still trying to comfort the woman. "Angela? Is that you?"

"Uh, yes!" the Doctor said, before immediately running over to Fareeha and tending to the woman. "I'm here. Don't worry."

However, as she began assessing and treating the poor woman's injuries, she looked over her shoulder for a moment to see Nathan still walking away, probably to find rest from the chilling air.

* * *

Siberian Front, 2000-kilometers East of Novosibirsk, Russia

Nathan sat on the corpse of a dispatched omnic at the western edge of the village as he stared at a little fire, finally able to get it going in this shriveling cold. Of course, smoking a cigarette to keep his insides warm as best he could, having gone through several already. It had gotten dark and cold quick, but thankfully the fire was enough for him to not completely snuff things out for today. To make it somewhat more bearable, he blared music from his Pip-Boy, "Stars of The Midnight Range". Fitting since he could see so damn many of them in the sky right now but was keener to look into the fire.

His ears perked to crunching snow and looked over his shoulder to see a red poncho walking towards him, both the fleshy and metal hands raised in the air.

"Just me, partner," McCree greeted, walking up to the fire. "Nice music."

"Hmph."

When Jesse got right up to the fire and next to Nathan, the Californian finished up his current cigarette, threw the butt into the fire, and retrieved another one. The Cowboy got one of his cigars into his mouth and struck a match against his metal forearm. When he brought the flame to his cigar, he offered it to Nathan, lighting his cigarette for him and throwing it into the fire when they both had lit flames. The air filled with the crackling of the fire and their breaths drawing tobacco.

The song had ended when Nathan got a quarter of the way through his newest cigarette.

"I saw that shot you took with the lever-action," Jesse said in between puffs. "Not bad. Kinda like Buffalo Bill."

"…Who?" Nathan asked, pausing from his smoke.

"Oh, don't tell me Buffalo Bill doesn't exist in your world."

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"No, he ain't. I do know someone who's pretty good with a lever-action but…"

"But what?"

McCree addressed Nathan for a second, puffing and shaking his head.

"Nevermind," the Cowboy said, grabbing a disembodied Bastion head and using it as a place to sit. "Getting ahead of myself and it's a long story."

Nathan usually would've left it at that and kept smoking his cigarette, but he felt compelled to find out who this other gunslinger with a lever-action was. Thinking he was the only one in this world. And whether McCree was bullshitting, or they were actually a good shot.

"I got time," the Waster said, blowing smoke towards the fire.

"You do? Well… Not sure where to begin," the Cowboy paused, as if unsure. "I didn't always run with Overwatch. Not sure if you knew that. Nope, I used to be with a gang."

"A raider gang?"

"Sometimes we raided. Or stole. Or robbed. Or whatever you want to call it. We ran in the southwest, around Arizona and New Mexico. Know those places?"

"Yeah, if they weren't under control by slaving, Roman wannabes."

"Right… Well, I ran with a gang before Overwatch 'conscripted' me when they tagged and bagged us. Or tried to."

"Still running?"

"Yup, unfortunately. Still go by the same name, 'Deadlock'. And I heard they're still running under the same boss, too."

"Huh… They know you're alive?"

"Without a doubt."

However, before their delightful conversation could continue, a streak of light shined across both their faces and they looked up to see something coming through the forest just ahead on the trail. It was a vehicle, a large, heavily armored car, that was as white as the snow. It had a tiny, tattered flag stuck to one of its mirrors that consisted of a white, red, and blue stripes stacked on the other. Given where he was, Nathan expected to see more red.

One car coming up the road wouldn't be so bad, but there was a caravan following the lead vehicle closely. And some of them were more heavily armored.

"Ah, hell," the American grumbled, taking a longer drag. "Took their sweet-ass time getting here. Look live! Ruskies are here."

"Soviets?" the New Californian questioned, standing up.

"What?! No! Eh, just keep your gun holstered. Let me handle this."

That didn't instill much confidence in Nathan as he lowly grumbled and watched the Russian military vehicles get closer. They haven't opened fire so far.

Finally, the lead vehicle stopped within several meters of the village and their campfire. McCree stepped forward to "greet" them as the doors opened up and soldiers in white winter clothing hopped out.

" _Privyet!_ " the American said in an accent that made Nathan groan. " _Ya_ -"

"Hands up, now!" one of the Russians barked at him in English as they pointed their weapons at them.

"Now, hold on!"

As McCree did as he was told, more Russian troops from the convoy began to spill in and surround the lead vehicle, their weapons obviously trained on the Overwatch agents. Several soldiers were training their rifles on Nathan alone, but he was more interested in their rifles than the fact they were pointed at them.

'So that's what AK's look like here…?' he thought, craning his neck to get a better look with the fire's light.

"Hands up, American!" one of the soldiers ordered him, jutting his rifle upward a bit.

"My hands are already up," Nathan stated, left arm crossed over his chest supporting the arm holding his cigarette. "And I'm not American."

A few more soldiers started walking up to the front, but two of them caught Nathan's eye. One was a middle-aged man in a similar uniform to his comrades but wore a red beret with a golden star in the middle and bore an insignia on his armored shoulder pads. The other, a much larger soldier and practically towering to Nathan's height, followed the officer and carried a huge energy weapon, hinted by the glowing ball seated into a socket that had revolving pieces of metal. The soldier didn't wear any coat or winter gear like the others, wearing a camouflaged uniform underneath armored plates strapped to her legs and torso. Her pink hair made Nathan recognize her from the new broadcasts a day earlier. Wasn't expecting to see her so soon. Even in the night, she stuck out, either with the pink hair or that derisive glare she was giving them.

The officer walked up to McCree, that pink-haired soldier following closely.

"I want to speak with your Commanding Officer," the officer demanded, calmly and fluently.

"My CO?" McCree asked. "Ehhh, we don't really have CO's here."

"Then I will speak with whoever is in charge of this operation. And maybe they can explain why you are here. Especially against all international sanctions."

"Isn't it obvious? We're helping."

The pink-haired soldier chuffed and rolled her eyes.

"We don't need your help," she spat.

" _Serzhant Zaryanova, tikho_!" the Russian CO ordered her shut.

"Is that right?" McCree asked, not letting this go. "Because I'm pretty sure we just did what the Russian military couldn't do for the past couple of months: take back a town. And y'all seem mighty grateful if you took an entire convoy up here to set up shop. Y'all are going to stay, right?"

This "Serzhant Zaryanova" did not look pleased.

Finally, Captain Fareeha Amari and Reinhardt Wilhelm, both in winter coats, walked into view of the Russian military convoy and caught the eye of the CO. Amari, wearing her own military uniform, walked right up to the Russian CO with a stern face and threw up a stiff hand in a salute. The Russian CO obliged, his expression unfaltering.

"Captain Fareeha Amari, one of the coordinators of the Overwatch detachment," she greeted, offering a hand to him.

"Major Mikhail Nikonov, commander of the 10th Company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Shock Army," the Major took her hand and shook it firmly. His expression then softened. "'Amari'? You wouldn't happen to be-?"

"I am, Major, but there are more pressing matters for us to attend to."

"Of course. I won't lie, you're caught us and everyone else in the world by surprise. Unsurprisingly, there are already calls that all of you be arrested right on the spot. However, certain… superiors of mine want to take advantage of this unique opportunity you've given us. Ones that they are certainly grateful for."

"Then I'd be glad to discuss them with you and my peers. But just so you know, Major, trying to apprehend us will end up in a bigger mess than the omnics have left here before. At the detriment to both your soldiers and the civilians here. I'm sorry, but that's, unfortunately, the position we have here."

"I will keep that in mind."

"Then, shall we?"

Major Nikonov smiled without any hint of malice in it before he stepped back and ordered his men to head inside. The Captain then turned around to go back inside into the village with Nikonov and his troops following. McCree finally let his hands down.

"Want us to go in there with you, Fare?" he called out.

"No, you two can stay and rest. If anything happens, you'll know," she called back.

"Suits me."

The Cowboy went back to the Bastion head and sat back down as the convoy of Russian vehicles passed them. Nathan stepped closer to watch the convoy go, silently awed by all the armor passing by him. Then, one of the Russians bumped into his shoulder as they were walking by, rather forcefully. He kept his balance, and he didn't need to look up to see who it was. Growling at the pink hair becoming dim in the night.

* * *

A few miles West of the Nevada-Arizona Border, Nevada

An old truck from the 2010s sped along the older concrete road, disregarding the speed limit signs that no one adhered to for the past few decades. Despite being the dead of night in the middle of the desert, most of the car's lights were not on to avoid detection in a wide-open area like this. Morrison instead opting to use the lowlight vision of his mask to get around the desert. Occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if they were being tailed by anyone or to make sure the new occupants were behaving back there. For a while, they went off-road to hide their trail for a short while, but after almost an hour of no activity, Jack decided to take to the road, again. It was smoother but still a bumpy ride.

"Hey, watch it!" Veronica exclaimed from the back, holding on to her a grab handle and one of the dogs. "Some of us don't have seatbelts you know."

The old Soldier grumbled lowly as he cast another glare of his mask to them, seeing Veronica, Parmley, and those two dogs try to hang on in the limited space they had. Funnily enough, that cybernetic dog was the most relaxed of the passengers as he calmly sat in the middle seat. That Boone fella offered to strap himself in the truck bed to keep watch with that wooden rifle of his, sequestering himself from the others. Which meant Morrison already liked him the most, but that cyber-dog was getting there.

"Not my fault this truck has wheels," Jack said as he looked back to the road, shifting the truck into lower gear for now.

Although, he did feel some pleasure from getting an opportunity to drive one of these old things, even when the circumstances for doing so were a bit dire. He has always liked "vintage" things, as typical with his age.

"Ana, you pick up anything, yet?" he looked to his left to the passenger side where his partner was sitting, her rifle seated between her legs.

"No," Ana answered, shaking her head with a hand up to her ear. "Nothing but interference. I think they're jamming us."

"Of course, they would."

Morrison shook his head, not surprised but still annoyed. Curious he looked at the radio and turned it on, turning up the volume to hear nothing but static no matter where he turned the dial. His frustration only mounted.

"Umm… Excuse me, but," Veronica began in the back seat, again. "Where the hell are you guys taking us? And, second, who are you people? I mean, I got the Overwatch part and you're apparently called Soldier: 69?"

"76."

"Right, but who are you?" she pointed to Ana, who looked back at her with her visor still.

Ana looked at Jack for a moment, who looked at her in response. Nothing was said in their moment of understanding as Jack reluctantly nodded to her, giving her the okay to do whatever she wanted. Even though he wasn't her commander anymore. He couldn't be bothered much, anyway.

"I'm Ana," she said as her visor retracted, revealing her weathered features. "You?"

"Veronica," the ex-Scribe responded, before listing off the others. "Parmley, Rex, and Cooper. Boone's the one in the back."

"I see," the old Sniper said as she spotted the red beret in the rear window. "A real pleasure to meet all of you, disregarding the circumstances."

"Thanks. You too, I guess?"

"Now, Jack? He's Jack, by the way," she gestured to the driver, grumbling at the mention of his name. "Can you tell us where exactly we are heading? I'm quite curious myself, too."

"Right now? Anywhere but here," Jack responded, glancing into the rear-view mirror. "We need to get far away enough from the Feds so we can actually call in for extraction.  _If_  we can call in for extraction. Obviously, easier said than done so until then we'll have to find places to hide or go somewhere where I know we'll get some decent communications. Maybe one of the old Watchpoints in the area, if I can still remember them."

"I see… Thanks for telling us," Veronica said, staring at the red light of his mask.

"Right. Now we just answered two of your questions, how about you answer one of mine? Since we're gonna be stuck here together for God knows long…" the old Soldier lamented as he adjusted the rear-view mirror to have them in view. "Who is this 'friend' that old man mentioned back in Goodsprings? Has he got something to do with the trail of destruction you guys left?"

Veronica went silent, finding herself staring blankly at the thin, red line in the rear-view mirror looking at her. She looked at Parmley, who could only give a reassuring shrug in response.

"Somewhat…" she admitted, somewhat ashamedly. "We're just trying to find him because he went missing some time ago, and we traveled this long doing so. Of course, we end up getting wrapped up in other's people business. Which, actually, isn't that much different when we used to travel with him."

She laughed to her self for a moment, shaking her head.

"He's a very charming fellow."

"This must be a very, _very_  good friend of yours to go through all the trouble we saw," Ana commented, getting more curious. "What's his name?"

"A lot of people call him 'Courier 6', but I call him Nathan," Veronica answered, smiling at the thought of him.

Morrison almost slammed on the brakes of the truck as his hands tensed on the steering wheel, looking over to see Ana's expression being the same as his. Just a few minutes ago they were still skeptics regarding the Wastelander's curious case, thinking there had to be something else at play. That he wasn't entirely being forthright with who he really is and where he was really from. Even the things they witnessed him do or the gear he possessed were not enough to convince them. But now they had more evidence sitting in the back of this truck and stored on the trailer hitched to it. If it was like anything Nathan had at Gibraltar…

"Brin?!" Ana exclaimed, trying to calm herself. "Your friend is Nathan Brin?!"

"You know him?" Veronica asked, her ears perking at the mention of his full name and the familiarity Ana said it with. Parmley looking up, as invested as the other Wasters by this point.

"Yes, he's been stuck with us for the past few months. Practically everyone knows him," Morrison piped in.

"So, he's alive? He's alive?!"

"Yes, he's alive, last time I checked."

"Oh my, God. You have to take him to us! He needs to know we're here to take him back home!"

"Sure, but we still need to find a way to contact them. It looks like we already have a long road trip ahead of us," Morrison said but shaking his head while a million thoughts ran through it. "God, this explains a lot…"

"Right… Right! W-w-we can do that! Right, guys?" she said, looking at the other in the seat with her. "What's a couple miles more?"

Relief, excitement, and anxiety coursed through her brain at unfettered speeds, Veronica unable to decide what she should even feel in this exact moment. Searching across two deserts, having neurotic pre-War scientists as hosts, and traveling across a dimension can have its toll on anyone insane enough to go through it. And now the crew finally had a chance to bring their friend back home, to where he belongs. But, as Veronica's mind considered all the possibilities and outcomes, this overbearing sense of grief had washed away sensations of the good news seconds prior. Thinking about home and what they had to be going through in their absence. But she hoped Nathan would help fix things when they brought him back.

Help the Mojave, for a second time.

"Then most of the things he's told us are probably true, then," Ana muttered under her breath, usually not one to be caught off-guard by things like this. Even as someone who's seen as much as she has when she had two eyes and after. Although, a lot of the things she's come to learn about Nathan Brin, the Wastelander, the New California, the Courier 6, started to click in her head. Albeit, slightly.

She turned around, addressing Veronica with a glint in her eye.

"Tell me, Veronica, how did you get here?" Ana earnestly asked the ex-Scribe. "Are you from the same place Nathan is? This… 'New California Republic'."

"Parmley and Boone are. I'm from California but not an NCR citizen. Quite the opposite," Veronica clarified but smiling a bit more. "As for how we got here… That's a really long story."

"We've got time," the old Sniper said, gesturing to themselves. "What do you think, Jack?"

"Anything to pass the time. Can't seem to find anything good in here to play on the radio," the old Soldier said as he rummaged through the glove compartment, pulling out Compact Discs. "Unless you like pop from the early-2000's?"

Ana smiled as she looked to Veronica and gestured for her to start. Veronica never considered herself a good storyteller, not unlike some of the others Nathan traveled with, but everything from Boone, Parmley, and Rex finding her in Old Mormon Fort to them jumping to other dimensions was still fresh in her mind.

"Well, I'm not sure you'll believe anything I'm about to say," Veronica forewarned.

"Then you have no idea who you're talking to," Ana Amari responded. "I guess that does mean you're not from here."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a while, didn't it?
> 
> First things first, yes, I am aware of all the Overwatch lore that's been introduced in my absence.
> 
> Second, yes, I know Fallout 76 was released and no, I'm not incorporating it into my story. I played the BETA with my friends aaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnddd let's just say I don't have to complain to Bethesda about the quality of my West-Tek bag because I didn't receive one… Nor did I receive the game... Cause I didn't buy it. Cause I didn't want it. Also, as a side note, I was planning to use Country Roads in this story long before F76 was even announced. So, happy coincidence, I guess.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read my story! Happy (late) Holidays and Happy (late) New Years!


	59. In a Forest Near the Front

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Long as fuck chapter ahead.

Newly Classified "Outpost Gregory", Siberian Front, Russia

Nathan awoke curled up into a ball under a thick wool blanket, immediately feeling the cold cling to the skin of his legs since the dead of night when he went to sleep. Most mornings he would've been sure it was morning, but the grey overcast that encroached into the bedroom from the window made him think otherwise.

As much as he enjoyed the little warmth he had under the covers, the cold sensation on his legs gave the compunction he needed to sit up in bed and get those covers off. His night, like always, was short. Barely more fulfilling than a nap. And like always, there wasn't much for him to dream about in his short sleep. Except for one thing that decided to slip into his mind before the cold stung him.

"Veronica."

He thought for a moment, promptly stood up from the bed, felt the cold wooden floor sting his feet, and got dressed. As he almost got done gearing up, he looked at a photo on the nightstands to see what he presumed were the owners of this house: a man, a woman, and their daughter, all standing in some forested area and dressed in winter clothing. Nathan wasn't sure if they were among the civilians they had found imprisoned in those large crates because he didn't check. He picked up the frame since he was surprised to see an actual picture encased in glass, feeling the wooden frame under his thumb. Putting it back down when he finally left their bedroom and made his way to the front door. No one noticed him going into this absent family's home the night before, but he was too tired to give a damn.

When the New Californian opened the door, he immediately grimaced at the cold air that hit him at the doorway. Wishing he still had his duster despite being made for the complete opposite climate. And unlike the dim house, his eyes stung from the bright blanket of snow on the ground reflecting the sunlight.

"Fuckin' white bullshit," he muttered as he squinted and wished he hadn't neglected to bring his aviators.

After he was done complaining to no one in particular, he walked across the occupied village to see personnel, both Overwatch and Russian Military, milling about. There were much more soldiers than agents, so there were quite a few Russians that were either performing non-combative chores or resting. A few tents set up not too far from some of their parked vehicles. The agents, though, were all occupied with the exception of him. As Nathan walked across the village, he could tell he was garnering a few looks from some of the Russian soldiers. Some of them quick glances of curiosity, others a bit less indifferent. He couldn't for the life of them imagine why. At least they didn't arrest everyone while he was asleep.

A couple of heavy stomps behind him and before he knew it Orisa was at his side like a puppy.

"Good morning, Mr. Brin," she greeted, obviously tireless.

"Mornin'," he responded with a quick glance.

"I've been looking all over for you. Captain Amari said she wished to speak to you."

"Figures," he commented, unsurprised. "Where is she?"

"I will show you the way!" she jovially said before trotting along through the snow.

He didn't have the energy to decline the help, so he just shook his head and began to follow her. However, to his right, there was a group of Russian soldiers that were huddled around a campfire, their rifles setup into a tree. Before speaking to Orisa they had barely acknowledged his presence, but after they were giving him stares like some of their other comrades. Except they were filled with resentment as if he had pissed on their campfire. Nathan didn't know what their problem was.

"The fuck are you looking at?" he growled, not caring if they didn't understand him.

He stood there for several more moments as he looked at all of them, his mouth shaped into a slight snarl. The campfire Russians kept staring at him for several moments longer until one of them finally grabbed the attention of the others and directed them back towards the pot. Nathan walked away, Orisa having stopped and waiting for him.

"Mr. Brin, what was-?"

"Nothing, it's fine. Where's Amari?"

Orisa brought Nathan to the southwestern edge of camp where one of the MV-261 Orcas were parked with Overwatch encampments surrounding it and several Overwatch agents guarding the entrance. Once led inside, Nathan saw Fareeha, Reinhardt, Winston, and Major Nikonov around the central computer. The Major's "bodyguard" stood to the side, seeming disinterested in the interior of the Overwatch dropship as her heavy weapon was propped against a wall. Although, she cast a glare towards Nathan and Orisa when they walked through, more directed towards the omnic than him.

"Mr. Brin is here!" Orisa announced, getting everyone's attention to them.

"Thank you, Orisa," Fareeha said, waving her off.

"Break a leg!" Orisa told Nathan, who frowned.

She walked out, and Nathan walked up to the table where everyone was waiting.

"Major, this is Nathan Brin, one of our agents," Winston introduced the Waster to Nikonov. "You may remember him from last night during our… First contact."

The Russian Major held out his hand to the taller man, taking it. In this light, Nathan noticed the icy-blue color of his eyes. They stood out among his aged features, along with the firm grip he had on Nathan's hand.

"A pleasure to meet you," Major Nikonov greeted. "What is your rank, soldier?"

"I don't have a rank," Nathan replied. "Not a soldier, either."

Nikonov frowned and looked concerned.

"I was told you would be a perfect fit for this operation."

"He may not be a soldier, but he knows how to fight," Reinhardt proudly boasted on Nathan's behalf. "Among other things."

"Like what?"

The Major then held Brin in critical regard. Nathan looked to the others but only received a gesture for him to go on from Reinhardt. He sighed.

"You want me to track a target over a hundred miles on foot, I'll do it. You want me to track them over twice the distance and then shoot 'em 500 yards out, I'll do that too. Or, if you want me to get something from somewhere before razing it down to the foundation, I guess I could do that, too," the Courier marketed himself without skipping a beat, addressing the Major and his icy-eyes.

"What about omnics? How can you handle that?" the Major questioned.

"I've fought, and killed, machines bigger than most. And bigger. I've got the means and the know how to do so."

"Hmm… You seem a very confident man, Mr. Brin. Okay, I now have some faith in sending you with the rest of the team."

"On what?"

Fareeha grabbed his attention from across the holodeck. "On a Search & Destroy mission, but not quite. Major Nikonov informed me of an omnic staging area that's been largely responsible for the dispersal of the hostile omnic forces within this region. From what I've been told, it's a sort of mini Omnium."

Pressing a few buttons on the computer, a holoscreen appeared and showed an aerial view of a snowy landscape like the one they landed in. Except in the middle of a huge clearing was a large industrial facility composed entirely of metal. Metal roads and rail lines branching out from it like roots. And a dozen large figures surrounding the perimeter.

"Please don't tell me it's anything like the Australian Omnium," Nathan moaned.

He was too focused on the diagram to notice Major Nikonov and even his bodyguard react to what he said.

"Similar, but not quite," Fareeha said. "As I mentioned before, its smaller. Tradeoff is that its actually active and is fielding ground forces for the omnics as we speak. We think its one of the prime forward staging areas for the Siberian Omnium."

"Which makes it a vital target," Nikonov added. "And we want you and the team to help neutralize it and gain our forces a proper footing within the region. So, we can finally break this stalemate and begin taking back our homes from the omnics aggressors."

Nathan looked at the Russian Major and was reminded of the many NCR Officers he met during his travels, the ones who had the confidence and the acumen to back it up. The ones who seemed to have good intentions in heart and not just those of their superiors or their personal gain. Although, that's what he silently hoped Nikonov would be. Otherwise, he'd only be doing another POG's job for them.

"Who's in this team besides me?" Nathan asked.

"Lena, Jesse, Torbjörn, Vaswani, Reinhardt, Winston, and me," Fareeha listed off.

"You're coming along?"

"Yes. There are also two scouts we sent to the area before we go along, and that's all on the Overwatch side of things. Major Nikonov will be providing some of his own men to accompany us."

"And once we get there, then what? Not just gonna walk through the front door, are we?"

Nikonov shook his head and spoke. "While having you charge in there would look good for the holovids, there a few options we could possibly exploit to avoid unnecessary engagement. And Dr. Winston may have a few ideas."

"Oh, please, just call me Winston, Major," the Gorilla responded. "And as for what you're referring to…"

Winston bent over and picked up several metallic devices from the ground and placed them on the table for all to see. At first glance, Nathan could tell they were some type of explosive weapon, some kind of charge that looks like it should be stuck to a wall or surface. In the center of the device was a chrome cylindrical piece that looked oddly similar.

"I was able to construct a series of explosive devices that should emit an EMP discharge, based on the design of your Pulse Grenades," the Scientist explained. "While your grenades are quite devastating as is, I was able to tweak the discharge to be much more concentrated and to, hopefully, affect electronic instruments on a system-wide scale. They have to be latched on to work, however, but I'm sure we'll figure that out. We just need to put these on anything that will disrupt the omnics' systems once taken out of commission. And after that, if everyone comes back unscathed, mission accomplished! I hope. So, any questions, Nathan?"

"How soon can we get this done?" he asked.

"Actually, before you go off to get ready," Major Nikonov stepped forward and addressed him. "This is something I have already relayed to your other comrades, but several weeks back there was a detachment of Special Forces that were sent in to do what you and Overwatch are about to do. Four of them. Shortly after they were sent behind enemy lines, we lost contact and they never came back."

Briefly, a disappointed expression flashed across the Major's face before regarding Nathan. This was shaping up to be more of a personal request than a strategic objective.

"You want us to find them?" Nathan predicted.

"Yes, please, if you can. Even if you find them and they've long perished, we'll still have bodies to send back home."

Nathan looked off to the side and shook his head slightly. Retrieving bodies was always tiring.

"If we find them, fine," Nathan relented.

"Thank you! After all this is done, Russia and her people will thank all of you-!"

There was a sudden flapping noise that made everyone look up into the air. Nathan did, too, until he watched it finally fly down to the table where he was standing and saw Ganymede looking up at him.

"Ganymede?!" he said aloud. "What…?"

Everyone's attention then shifted to a corner of the packed dropship as one of the "crates" began to twist, rotate, and morph into an omnic. Everyone was surprised, but no one was nearly as shocked as the Russian soldiers with them. The pink-haired reaching to her weapon and already pointing it at Bastion.

"Omnic!" she yelled, almost about to clamp down on the trigger until she received a solid punch to the side of her head that made her let go of her weapon and her reeling to her knee. Looking up and snarling to see Nathan looming over her, also snarling.

"Don't you point that fucking weapon at him!" he threatened

The pink-haired Russian stood up and almost leaped at Nathan before Winston and Fareeha got between them. The Major stood there, still shocked that there was a Bastion unit in the same room as him. Meanwhile, Ganymede flew around the room chirping incessantly.

"What is that thing doing here? Why do you have a Bastion on this ship?!" Major Nikonov questioned, backing away slowly with nervous eyes fixed on the omnic.

"I'm sorry, Major," Fareeha began, equally surprised. "He's not supposed to be here, he's supposed to be back at base. I don't know how he got here!"

As Fareeha kept Nathan from grappling at the bodyguard's neck and Winston for the bodyguard, Bastion stood in the corner. His square head twitching nervously as he watched the altercation. After a while, Nathan finally calmed down a little and had Fareeha let go of him to go walk up to Bastion, Reinhardt already patting the old war machine on the shoulder plate.

"Sorry, pal. You alright?" Nathan asked.

"Eedoo," Bastion responded

"What are you doing here?"

"Beereepoo Eetoo."

Nathan's frustration faded when Bastion made those noises, replaced with surprise.

"What? Why?"

"Keeree too heepoo beereepootoo!" the omnic answered as sure as he could. "Eennn booroo".

"Bastion, you don't even have your gun arms, how are you going to-?"

"Nathan, what's going on?" Fareeha called out.

"Umm," Nathan turned around, unsure how to continue. "He wants to help."

Everyone fell silent again, including the Russians.

"Wait, you can understand him?" the bodyguard questioned in disbelief.

"Yes, and that's what he told me," Nathan reiterated.

"Oh, Bastion…" Fareeha brought a hand to her face, groaning.

Major Nikonov was silent as he looked at the old war omnic, but the shock was gone. He still looked at Bastion cautiously but there was a prospective gleam in his eyes. Complimenting his ice-cold gaze.

"Athena?" Fareeha called up to the ceiling. "Can you translate what Bastion says?"

"Yes, Fareeha," Athena answered.

"Good. Nathan, rest up and get ready for the mission. I'll take over things from here."

Nathan looked over his shoulder back at her, turning back to Bastion. Bastion craned his head down at him and gave him a mechanical, stern nod. Nathan lightly pounded his front chassis and walked away.

"Don't trouble him too much," Nathan demanded.

"I promise," Fareeha accepted.

"So, Bastion…" Reinhardt put a hand on his shoulder, who was only slightly taller than him without the Crusader armor. "You want to fight, huh?"

"Reinhardt…" Fareeha started shaking her head.

Walking out of the cabin door, Nathan felt the cold, Russian air, again. Feeling his helmet still cold to the touch even after being inside for a while. He was going off to find something to eat until he noticed a few Russian military trucks parked somewhat close to the dropship, not being there when he first got there. The civilians they had rescued were being helped up into the backs of these trucks, with assistance from Overwatch and Russian personnel, alike. Nathan walked over to take a closer look at the dozen or so poor bastards locked up in cages. He couldn't find the family in the picture, though.

"Don't worry, they'll take them back somewhere safe," Dr. Ziegler assured him as she walked up beside him. Wrapping herself with a spare blanket and holding two cups of coffee.

"That's good," Nathan muttered, not even looking at the Doctor as he watched the last civilian get loaded into a truck.

One of the civilians, a small child, reached out to the soldiers and held something out to them. An Overwatch agent and a Russian soldier each retrieved a tiny flower from the child, uttering " _spasibo_ " before the trucks finally drove off west with an armored escort.

"Coffee?" Angela offered a cup to him.

"Thank you," Nathan graciously took the cup, the heat bringing sensation back to his fingers. It was only when he brought it to his lips in a cold climate did he fully appreciate the hot drink. When he took a few hearty sips and stopped for air, he felt compelled to state the obvious. "Goddamn, it's fucking cold."

"You should've brought a jacket, then!" Angela scolded him like his mom, smiling. "Or brought your… 'Duster' you call it? I'm sure that would've helped, somewhat."

"Nah, it's already too torn up. Basically rags by this point."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't worry about it."

"But you're still going to be awfully cold, especially out there. You know, I'm sure we have some spare coats in the storage tent. Hopefully, something in your size."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Come on, let's take a look."

Nathan looked at her and noted her assertiveness about him needing a coat like she was his mom. Yet, he was the fool to not bring a coat with him in the first place.

"Sure," he accepted.

The two then walked together to the supply tent, Angela dragging Nathan by one arm.

* * *

The white military surplus jacket was a bit tight on Nathan, especially with his armor, but fit well enough. The faux-fur lining of the hood brushing his neck and the thick parka padding on the inside hugging to his torso took some getting used to, not accustomed to constantly wearing heavy winter clothing. It was warm, though, which is what mattered. Not just feeling the cold bite of his armor over a thin shirt.

Nathan, along with some of other Overwatch agents, sat in the back of a Russian troop transport. Across from Nathan was Lena, Torbjörn, and Brigitte, while to his left and right were Jesse and Satya. There were also two Russian soldiers seated from across each other and closest to the transport doors. They weren't the talkative sort, usually eyeing the Overwatch agents or staring at their feet. Jesse had his hat over his face, Satya was intently focused on a construction in her hands, and Nathan stayed silent. Surprisingly, the bubbly Brit wasn't the most talkative as she was mostly on her phone while Brigitte and her dad were still arguing about her coming with on this mission. Even though she had successfully convinced him to let her tag-along, thus her being there, but her father was still quick to raise concerns. It wasn't heated, but the Russians occasionally cast glances at the two.

A tap on his right shoulder distracted Nathan from the Lindholms.

"Mr. Brin," Satya said.

"Yes, Vaswani?"

"I… Just wanted to thank you, again, for teaching me about the proper way to handle a firearm."

"Don't mention it," Nathan responded.

The Architect's expression was confused momentarily until regaining composure.

"Okay, as you wish," she accepted.

"What?" Nathan asked, wondering what he requested.

He felt Jesse shake as he tried to stifle a laugh.

"No, that not what I meant," Nathan clarified. "I was just saying you're welcome."

"Ah, I see. Thank you, again, then. You would be happy to know that I am working on a possible form of repayment for what you've taught me."

"Repayment? That isn't really necessary."

"I insist upon it. It would only seem fair."

"What do you have in mind, then?"

"I'm still not quite certain. You taught me how to be offensive, maybe I could help you be more defensive. Equal trade."

"You already gave us personal shields."

"They're tentative. Improvements could certainly be made. Something more substantial, hopefully."

Nathan wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

"Hey, whatever you say," he concedes but somewhat curious. "As long as you watch my back, I'll watch yours."

By the time their conversation had concluded, the occupants felt the troop transport slow and then come to a complete stop. The Russian radio music that was coming from the front was silenced. One of the soldiers brought a finger up to his ear as he received a radio transmission before looking at the other occupants and nodding.

" _My tut._ We are here," he said as he pressed a button and the large rear door of the transport began to lower down into the ground.

The occupants filed out into a snowed-in forest clearing surrounded by trees, a few kilometers away from the target. Several other troops transports along with some armored cars with mounted weapons were here. The other Overwatch agents, Fareeha, Reinhardt, and Winston, were in their own troop transport as space would've gotten tight.

Once out and about, the Overwatch agents reconvened behind one of the transports and Amari began to give them orders. One team would be tasked to go travel through the wilderness on foot and meet up with the Overwatch scouts, while the others wait until the main assault. That team would consist of Jesse, Vaswani, Winston, and of course, Nathan. However, there was a detail that wasn't relayed until it was too late.

And so, a few minutes later, Nathan along with the others were trudging through a Siberian forest with the pink-haired bodyguard, who the Major lent to the team for this mission. The one he punched, earlier. Obviously, introductions were curt and with nothing but the armor she wore from yesterday and her bulky gun, she started leading them to their mutual target. At a somewhat leisurely pace. She was acting civil, at least for now.

Nathan was the first one behind her, then Winston, Satya, and McCree trailing behind him. That probably wasn't a good idea. Thankfully, she didn't talk much, as curt escorting them as she was greeting them. Her vision focused on what was in front and around them in potentially hostile territory but never once looking behind her. Nathan thought he saw her cast some side glances to him or someone behind him, but they were brief. At least he wouldn't be the main draw of fire this time.

"Th-th-this is not my type of climate," Winston muttered, shivering a little even with his heavy coat and fur.

Their guide quickly exhaled through her nose.

"You will get used to it," she said, sounding more like a demand than small talk.

"I, uh, hope I do, Sergeant… Er, I'm sorry, what was your name, again?"

The Sergeant quickly looked over her shoulder, Nathan saw a frown.

"Aleksandra Zaryanova," she said quickly and fluently before directing her attention back to the front.

"…Ah, right…" Winston fell silent, looking back, confused and frowning. McCree shrugged.

"That's a lot of syllables," Nathan observed.

"You can speak robot, no? If it is too hard for you to pronounce, then you can call me 'Zarya'," Zarya quickly said, as if talking to a child.

"Zaryanova, then," Nathan quickly responded, looking up at the trees. Not seeing Zarya cast a frown at him.

They lapsed back into silence, again, the snow crunching beneath their feet. Nathan looked around the Russian forest, trees and ground covered in snow stretching on seemingly for miles. Snow reached up halfway up to his shins at times, making walking more laborious, but his legs weren't gonna ache just yet. The further they were led through, Nathan eventually noticed something off about this forest. Something missing here that wasn't in the forests in Germany, China, or Mt. Charleston.

"Dead air," he thought to himself aloud.

"What?" Zarya questioned.

"It's quiet. No birds, no animals; Just us. Is it usually this quiet?"

"No. It is the omnics. They scared everything off," Zarya said, resentment being palpable in her voice.

She fell silent again for a moment.

"Used to be louder than this," Zarya suddenly said, then nothing for the duration of the trip.

A half-hour passed of Zarya leading the four Overwatch agents through the forest, never giving much instruction other than a simple point of her finger or barely descript statement. Nathan was unsure if Zarya was even leading them in the right direction when the trees and ground still looked the same. But after another near half-hour of trudging through snow, Zarya had finally brought them to the edge of the forest where there was a huge land clearing ahead. The sight of the mini-omnium, their target just barely on the horizon, with smoke churning from it and multiple large omnics surrounding it. They couldn't find their scouts, though.

"Capt. Amari told me your scouts would be here," Zarya squinted, taking a knee behind a tree and looking at the desolate clearing.

"She did," Winston said, using one hand as a visor over his eyes. "Where are they?"

Nathan, looking at the others, crouched down and slowly walked towards the forest edge. Passing Zarya as he got up to a large mound of snow that could act as cover.

"Where are you going?" she questioned.

"Relax," he said as he pulled out his Kar98k with the enhanced scope. "Wanna take a closer look."

When he got up to the mound, Nathan sighted in his scope and got almost crystal-clear imagery of the omnium. The facility wasn't even a tenth of the size of a regular omnium but still bustled with automated activity as worker and security drones buzzed around the many entrances in an out. He spotted more of those spider-bots from the village, along with other specimens that were bigger and heavily armed. The Waster could only sigh as he wished he brought the Pulse Gun.

Suddenly, the mound trembled before the snow shook off and something popped out from under it. A large, fat man in a heavy coat, stitched gloves, and an ushanka turned around to face Nathan. The Courier had flipped the rifle's safety off from the surprise but lowered it upon recognizing the pig mask under that hat.

"Rutledge?"

The Junker grunted, greeting them. Almost unrecognizable without his belly showing.

"Who is this?" Zarya asked, glowering at the man larger than her.

"The scout. One of ours… I think," Winston answered. "Wait, but where's Jamison?"

Hearing that, Roadhog looked down at a smaller mound of snow to his left before punching it lightly. The snow flew into the air as Junkrat popped up, screaming, and almost about to fire a volley from his launcher. His deranged look quickly snapped back to normalcy when he saw all the non-metallic sentients staring at him.

"Oh, it's only you," Jamison said as he eased his stance, shivering not twitching. "What took you so long?"

"You're the scouts?" Nathan questioned in disbelief.

"Yup! If there's something the Cap can rely on us to do, it's scrapping some bots. Spying on bots is a close second."

Behind him, Zarya was groaning and muttered something in Russian. Probably not something flattering. Nathan frowned when he looked at Jamison and noticed he was still in the same set of clothes since… Ever.

"You're not wearing a jacket?" he questioned.

"Roadie told me we would be going to Russia, not that it would be cold!" Jamison scolded as he shivered.

Winston interrupted them. "Okay, let's not get off track for a second. What were you able to find about this omnic base? Any weak points? Hazards? Patrols?"

"Well, for starters, there's a lot of damn bots all over the place," Jamison stated the obvious. "Was afraid we didn't pack enough for them."

"Uh… Yes, we can see that."

"But Roadie and I did see a glowing blue light in some tower in the middle of the thing. Don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Zarya looked up when he said that.

"Tower?" she questioned.

"Yeah, just some tower in the middle of the place. Glows bright like the opera house when we get the Ashes."

"I should get in there."

"Well, if you go around the back there seems to be this big bumhole that the clankers dump all their sludge. Wanted to see if it was flammable but Roadie said we're on a 'stealth' mission. Bah!"

Listening to what he said, Zarya mulled to herself momentarily before standing up.

"Then I will go there," Zarya declared. "Tell the others that I will begin my attack soon."

"Wait, are you sure that's a good idea?" Winston asked. "You'll be going in there alone."

"Element of surprise. Don't worry about me, I'll make it work from where I am."

"I'm not sure Major Nikonov would appreciate if we just let one of his soldiers go in there by themselves."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"How about you let some of us tag along? You know, just to make sure you stay safe."

"I am a soldier fighting for my home. Being in harm's way is expected of me."

"Well, at least consider it a courtesy?"

Zarya scowled, obviously annoyed by Winston's insistence of having Overwatch agents tag along. Nathan could tell she didn't really want anything to do with them, clearly leading them on orders and not because she volunteered. Ultimately, Zarya's pride gave way.

"Fine," the Russian soldier finally relented. "I will take the Americans and the Vishkar worker with me."

Nathan frowned, not just because she called him an American but also because he had to tag along with her.

"Are you guys alright with that?" Winston asked them.

"We're on a mission, are we not?" Satya asked back.

"Yeah, might as well get this done with," Jesse added. "What about you, Brin? Up for it."

"Sure," Brin answered, glowering at Zaryanova. "We'll need to slip in, though. That side might be a guarded as the rest."

A raucous and obnoxious throat-clearing made everyone look up to Junkrat, nonchalantly bringing attention to himself.

"Yes?" Nathan asked.

"Sounds like you'll need a distraction," he said, fluttering his hands like he was on stage. "Thankfully I've got enough leftover Cordite to help you with such."

"Okay, how long will it take you to set it up?"

Satya spoke up. "Are you actually considering his offer?" she asked Nathan very earnestly.

"The only thing he's useful for is making noise. So, yeah."

"Exactly!" he shrilly declared. "I can have a big enough boom set up by the hour, maybe even less! Oi, Wizz, how good are you with electrical wires?"

He was referring to the Scientist.

"Umm…" Winston was a bit hesitant to even respond. "I have a degree in Electrical Engineering, Theoretical and Applied."

"Then we'll have it set up in less than an hour!"

Zarya stood up and charged her weapon.

"Good, we've wasted enough time. Let's go," she ordered, moving through the forest a bit more quickly now.

Nathan and Jesse exchanged glances before they both shrugged and followed. Satya quietly behind them.

"Good luck!" Winston wished them as he cautiously went with the Junkers.

It didn't take long for the group to have the rear of the enemy base in full view with Zarya leading them. They were now crouched behind a snowy berm, waiting and observing. The southern side of the wall was as guarded as the others, if not more so, but they could see the entrance point Jamison was talking about: an exposed pipeline leaking black sludge that stained the snow. The humans bided their time.

"Those things are pretty big," Nathan commented, observing one of the large omnics through his scope. "We sure we have enough ordinance just to get in?"

" _Da_ , we do," Zarya said, looking down at her weapon. "Stick close and you won't die."

'I ain't too sure about that', Nathan thought.

Jesse walked up in between them, his breath clouding the air.

"We still haven't found any of the Russian SpecOps," Jesse noted. "They have to be somewhere around here."

Nathan kept his eyes focused on the omnium, moving slightly to get the blood pumping in this cold weather. Moving his fingers to maintain the sensation in them. However, he felt something hard brush against his dangling hand and looked down to his right to see a shiny piece of metal sticking out from the snow. He immediately recognized it as the muzzle of a rifle and began slowly shoveling snow out to reveal more of it. As he dug up more, he saw it had digitized-winter-camo furniture, some type of underslung weapon, side-mounted laser and flashlight, and an integral red-dot sight. The others noticed what he was doing when he grabbed the rifle and wrestled it from the snow.

"Look what I found," Nathan said as he brushed snow off it. "This must've belonged to one of them."

Upon closer inspection, it was remarkably different from the AK variants he's used to, having what appeared to be an almost entirely polymer construction and modularity. The charging handle was on the left instead of the right, and the safety was above the trigger where his right thumb could reach, like his AR, but with four labels with different bullet graphics. The magazine was also polymer and has little windows that indicated round count in intervals of five from 0-30. He pulled back on the charging handle to feel the weighty bolt still function.

"Hmm, not bad," he complimented, finding himself admiring this rifle.

"Uhh… Brin," Jesse said, pointing at something to his right.

Nathan twisted his head back to the spot he dug up the rifle from and saw a black hand, frostbitten and shaped like a claw. Quickly realizing that was the rifle's late owner.

"… Looks like we found one."

Zarya quickly pushed McCree and Brin out of the way. Not hesitating as she stuck her hands into the snow.

"Are you not going to help me?" she asked.

Nathan set down the rifle with a sigh and began shoveling out the snow with her, then McCree. After about a minute, they were able to shovel off all the snow and pulled out the frozen corpse of a Russian operator. Much of his body was covered almost completely head-to-toe in his uniform and tactical gear, but they didn't need to remove his clothes to feel how cold his skin had gotten. And the huge exposed wound in the center of his gut.

"How long has he been dead?" McCree asked.

"Possibly a week or so," Nathan answered, finding himself examining the wound. "The snow would've preserved him for a while, but he's already starting to show signs of decay."

Zarya was silent as she looked down at the corpse until she reached down to his neck and snagged the man's dog tags off.

"If any of you can use his rifle, do it," she said as she went back to her weapon, propped against a tree. "Take spare ammunition, too. But nothing else. We'll retrieve his body when we're done."

Jesse and Nathan looked at Zarya as she passed them, Jesse then looking at the rifle and Nathan.

"Finders keepers," he gestured to both.

"Might as well," Nathan accepted, turning around and reaching out to the corpse. "Waste of ammunition, otherwise."

"Exactly," Zarya said, grabbing her weapon.

After respectfully looting the dead Russian soldier, Nathan retrieved seven magazines plus the one already in the rifle, plus what he assumed were rounds for the underslung grenade launcher. The AK mags and grenades had to share space with the lent AR mags in the satchel, Nathan making sure they sat snug in there. Just a couple more pounds of shit. But as he holstered All-American, Nathan silently hoped the authentic-AK would be up to snuff for dealing with large metal monstrosities.

"How is the rifle?" their Russian guide asked him expectantly.

"Feels fine," the New Californian responded as his big hands found their way around it, appreciating that he could set the stock at maximum length.

"Good. I think your hare-brained friend will start soon."

"How long has it been?"

"Been more than half an hour," McCree told 'em.

The still air was interrupted when a sudden and concussive blast threw up a large cloud of smoke above the trees. Seeing it occur where they were earlier on the horizon, a faint shrill cackling to be heard for a moment. In response, the omnic base began to echo a shrill, distorted noise as aerial omnics began to fly out from the base and towards the disturbance. Several of the larger omnics patrolling the eastern side perked up like animals before they began running there, too. However, there were still a few that stuck around and guarded the area.

"Inadequate result in part of the mongrel, as I suspected," Satya observed, unimpressed.

"Yup. Brin, you still got spare Pulse Grenades?" McCree asked as he cocked the hammer of his revolver.

But before Nathan could even reach to his belt, Zaryanova stood up and yanked a handle on her heavy weapon, making a coil seated between the two rails spin and crackle with energy.

"No need," the large Russian soldier stated. "Stick together. Now."

She punctuated her response by arcing her cannon and sending a purple-blue ball directly two one of the large arachnoids where it landed squarely into its main eye. The machine now visually disabled, it roared as it began firing wildly into the air. Zarya then charged from cover and towards the base, the Overwatch agents required to follow. The "Americans" fired from the sides while the Vishkar Architect focused more on making cover appear out of thin air. Nathan fired the AK in single-shot to conserve ammo and felt the rifle's kick lighter than he had expected, making it easy to keep the red dot on the target. Humanoid infantry units of the omnics were relatively dispatched with ease when he aimed the weapon at the right spots, but he wasn't about to waste ammo on the larger variants as one of the arachnoids charged them from the right side – his side.

"Shit, incoming!" he screamed as he crouched down to retrieve one of his Pulse Grenades.

Zarya unexpectedly got in front of him and activated a shield that encompassed her entire frame in a bubble. Fire from the approaching arachnoid bounced and rippled off her shield and the coils on the back of her armor began glowing and pulsating with similar-colored energy. She eventually started to glow brightly like a reactor when she dropped the barrier and fired a particularly powerful beam from her cannon, surging energy from her suit. The beam was powerful enough to slice through one of the legs of the arachnoid, making it crash into the snow. Zarya didn't hesitate as she ran up to the downed omnic's eye and focused a beam of energy right into it, melting metal as it passed through layers of the machine. When a munitions compartment in its hull detonated, Zarya stopped and left molten metal oozing out of its eye.

Zarya had an expression Nathan was all too familiar with when she turned her back on the omnic she slew while muttering something in Russian.

The humans appropriately dealt with omnic resistance as they got to the pipelines Junkrat had scouted.

"Ugh, the stench," Satya lamented, wrinkling her nose. "Must we really wade through that?"

"Ain't got much choice, but there's a problem," Jesse pointed to the inside of the pipes to a barrier inside of it. "Looks like the omnics shut it close."

Zarya said nothing as she walked up to the pipeline, still pulsating with energy, and fired a beam at the barrier. It began to melt and eventually created a pool of molten metal mixing in with the black sludge.

"Now, we go through," she said.

"Hold on," Satya told everyone as she focused a made a gesture with her hand that enshrouded everyone, including her, in a light-blue shield that hugged their form. "So, we don't get filthy in that waste."

"Good looking out," Nathan thanked her.

They wasted no time getting into the sludge and wading through it as they got deeper into this man-sized pipe. As they did, they heard the western side of the compound erupt into battle as Russian forces with the other agents began their assault with the rest of the Overwatch agents.

They waded and trudged through what seemed like a quarter-mile of sludge until they saw a light at the end of the pipe. Thankfully, none of it touching their skin or staining their clothes but feeling heavier to walk through than the snow. When they finally reached this opening, it was big enough for the humans to jump up and climb through. They were now inside the omnium, inside a room that seemed to be responsible for the treatment and disposal of waste. Pipes running in and out of this room like veins until they conjoined into a large machine that churned and oozed the black sludge flooding into the pipes outside. The shield protecting them from muck fade and smell inside was noxious, so they quickly made their way out of the room and led themselves deeper into the facility. In contrast to the air outside, the insides of this mini-omnium were hot and uncomfortable at times with winter clothing. And while they could hear factory noise from the pipes, their ears were almost overloaded when they reached the factory floor and saw dozens and dozens of assembly lines cranking out omnics. There were hundreds of drones and automated workers that milled about as they assembled and constructed omnics like clockwork, mainly more humanoid variants. The workers all ignored the humans, but the security omnics were there to greet them the second they set foot onto the floor.

Zarya threw up another shield and stepped in front of the others as a hail of gunfire bounced off her shield. Nathan, McCree, and even Satya were quick to return fire, at both ground and aerial omnics that were targeting them. It was times like these Nathan wished he had a pump-shotgun as bird-like omnics soared above him, but he managed with the AK.

A few Bastion units stomped into view and were steps above the other infantry units they were scrapping. They took a few more rounds to take down, even with the AK and could turn into an autocannon fast. The factory floor soon being thrown into turmoil as the humans had to find cover or create their own. The Russian was able to brunt through the damage, her weapon becoming hotter and brighter the more she got hit. Her cannon practically ripping through the Bastions in half as they slowly marched up to her firing their guns. However, she became rather talkative as she yelled at the omnics in Russian and waving her weapon at any automated target she could see. The last Bastion was hers as it collapsed to the ground a half-melted mess. After the others slowly came up behind her with their weapons at the ready, Nathan looking at the last Bastion she mangled.

"You must really hate omnics, don't you, Zaryanova?" he asked, noting how reckless she had gotten all of a sudden.

Zarya only glared at him, her forehead drenched in sweat.

"Do you have the charges?" she asked.

McCree produced the bag that carried all of Winston's EMP charges. "How do you reckon we split up the work?" he asked.

"How about I go with Vaswani and you go with Zaryanova?" Nathan suggested. "One shield and one gun for both of us."

"No," Zarya refused, taking one of the charges for herself. "I will go alone. It will be faster that way. I will find where the reactor is and break it."

There wasn't much of a debate as she stormed off by herself into the omnic ridden facility. "If you are in trouble, I'll find you," she assured them barely as she turned a corner and got out of sight.

"Huh, I was just warming up to her," McCree dryly admitted. "So, I guess I'll go by my lonesome and take one of the charges while I'll leave you two to it?"

"No," Nathan said, looking at the corner where Zarya disappeared. "Take Vaswani and one of the charges with you."

"Are you sure about this, Mr. Brin?" Satya asked, showing some concern.

"Positive."

"Do you even know where to go?"

"I'll wander around and see if I find something important looking… Maybe that tower Zaryanova was raving about."

"May I please see your shield module, first, Mr. Brin?"

"Sure, but stop calling me 'Mr. Brin'."

"Noted."

Nathan handed the triangular module clipped to his belt to Vaswani, who held it delicately in her right hand and wrapped her left hand around it. The glove glowed and trembled as a trail of blue energy seemed to flow into the center of the glowing triangle. She stopped just a few seconds later and the triangular shield module was the same, but the light in the center glowed a bit brighter.

"I have overcharged your shield for you, Nathan," Satya explained as she handed it back to him. "It should give you twice the protection but for a limited duration. Please be careful."

"Thanks. I'd say the same for you two," Nathan said as he spun around and began to walk in the opposite direction. However, he stopped and considered that he was going to leave them to fend for themselves for God knows how long in this automated labyrinth. Feeling the gears in his old, Waster head turn, again, he sighed as he turned around and reached for his belt.

"Hey," he called out before tossing them one of his spare Pulse Grenades, which McCree narrowly caught. "Use it wisely."

He said nothing else as he spun around again and ventured into the live omnium.

Nathan Brin was alone as he traversed the metal halls of this living factory. Overwhelming sounds of the assembly line quickly becoming background noise and the temperature becoming more bearable for the Waster. More welcome than the snow outside. He clicked in a fresh magazine into the AK before racking the charging handle, the sound echoing throughout the hall for a moment. He considered putting one of the grenade rounds into the launcher, but his lack of knowledge of Russian under barrel launchers helped steer his better judgment against loading it within an enclosed space. The Courier might find a use for it soon, regardless.

As he tried to navigate a place clearly not designed for humans, he found himself looking up at the tall ceiling and looking where the tower was in relation to him on the ground. Drones and other flying omnics flew overhead paying him no mind, but he was rightfully wary of them. When he made another turn at a corner, the hulking form of a Bastion was the first thing he saw, and he rolled to the ground as soon as the machine fired. Stopping to his knees and using the momentum to swing the rifle upwards, he dumped half the magazine square into the Bastion's rectangular head with roughly two meters between them. All the shots landed, and the Bastion's head became riddled with holes as the upper-portion blew off. The machine kept firing wildly into the air, so Nathan quickly ran behind the lumbering machine and charged into its back to knock it into the ground. Following up by dumping the rest of the mag point-blank into its back, exposing the electronic guts of the machine and covering Nathan in black oil. Looked down at the AK and himself, seeing black stains on his winter coat. This one Bastion lay dead.

"Jesus," he grieved at how durable the machine was, like a Sentry Bot with thumbs.

Amid the industrial backdrop, he heard gunfire, McCree's revolver and Vaswani's hard-light.

"McCree, Vaswani, you there?" he brought a hand up to his helmet but only heard static. "Hey, can you hear me?"

There was only more static, but the gunfire continued for several more moments until ceasing. The assembly line becoming prevalent, again. Nathan bumped his helmet a few times but still heard nothing.

"Shit."

A slow but heavy stomping made him look around the corner to see the shadows of more Bastions heading to where he was, so he ran to save himself the time, energy, and ammo.

He went more quickly along the halls, taking care to cross any intersection and corners with the rifle checking first. Looking up to see if that tower was any closer, which it wasn't at first, but slowly began creeping along as he scurried all over the factory floor. Occasionally hopping over assembly lines or dodging worker drones. He encountered resistance, either Bastions or these aerial drones he swatted out of the air like bloatflies. And sometimes, he could hear the others firing their weapons accompanied by the omnics. Confirming to Nathan they were still alive until their weapons fell silent, again.

Eventually, Nathan kept seeing railings and catwalks above him, so he quickly scaled one of the metal walls with enough grooves in it to get to higher ground. Once up there, he began following where they lead him, and he kept the tower in sight. Occasionally being fired upon and firing back. While it seemed he made little progress on the ground, he saw the tower get larger and closer from where he ran. No omnics fired upon him when he ran, yet, keeping wary of the sky and ground.

However, as he crossed from one room into another through the catwalk, he stopped in the new room as he saw something in the corner of his eye. Looking down to his left at a large room and coming face to face with one of the largest robots he has ever seen. Even when it was hunched down, folded into a fetal position, the large omnic still towered over Nathan and the surrounding interior structures. Its legs were easily the height of medium-sized buildings and dozens of workers drone were tending to it, alone. The sound of cranes overhead made Nathan look up to the ceiling to see suspended rails guide large machinery over the dormant giant, then floating down to lock a mechanical arm as large as an ICBM into its right shoulder. The gun on it looking as capable as one, too.

"Titan," Nathan recognized it from a late-night research session on the internet, never fully realizing the scale of this behemoth until coming face-to-face with one. He remembered reading they were originally intended to help construct buildings bigger than it until they became weaponized. Naturally.

A whirring noise made Nathan duck and quickly snatch the wing of a drone that tried to clip him, slamming it into the ground and crushing it under his boot. He ran, again, closer to the tower than ever and not wanting to wake the sleeping giant.

Thankfully, after a few more turns and catwalks, Nathan arrived at the base of the tower. He walked into an opening, ready to climb up, but found the space desolate of any means of conveyance. There were no stairs, and there didn't seem to be any elevators. Not even a damn ladder. Just a long way up with no way to get there.

"Goddammit," Nathan muttered, all he could do really.

He turned and walked away from the shaft, seeing if he could contact the others but a sudden noise made him spin around to the shaft he was at. But now, there was a holographic display to his right. He slowly approached the display, seeing the words of that omnic language on it. It was unintelligible to him aside from the arrows pointing up and down. Nathan looked up, reaffirming how long it was.

"Fuck it," he said as he tapped the up-arrow and felt the platform beneath him begin to move.

Like everything else in this facility, the platform was fast, efficient, and unyielding. The human almost lost his balance as it moved him up to the highest level rapidly. It ended as quickly as it started when it reached the top level and brought Nathan to a metal wall. He stood there in the dark with his Pip-Boy's light on, looking at the wall, and holding his rifle at the ready. Nothing happened as he stood there, seeing just the wall and nothing for him to interact with. Then, a seam within the wall lit up blue and quickly separated, revealing a room nearly surrounded by glass windows that let the sunshine in. The floor was a pristine white, almost clear and spotless porcelain. And in the middle of this floor was a metal pylon with a glowing blue orb floating within a cavity in its midsection. The windows showed they were high above the ground, seeing the snowy forest go on endlessly into the horizon.

Of course, Nathan hesitated before he stepped inside into this sterile tower.

Two panels in the ceiling opened and automated guns popped out, but Nathan quickly delivered two bursts into the systems that put them out of commission. Another panel opened and several drones flew out, the Waster quickly dispatching two, but one fired a bolt of energy that he swerved out of the way from. Nathan twirled his rifle and smacked the stock into it, sending it crashing towards the glass. It didn't shatter the glass but crumpled to the floor dead after the collision. With that finished, he twirled back to the pylon, flipping the selector switch to what he presumed was full-auto. Getting the hang of this rifle.

The human cautiously walked towards the pylon, the red dot sight centered on the captive blue orb. Then, as he got within a meter of the pylon, the middle of the orb turned into a lighter shade. It looked like the pupil of an eye, and it was focusing on him.

" _Kak ty popal vnutr'?_ " it said, the pupil contracting while Nathan kept his sight trained on it. " _Kak ty popal vnutr'?_ "

The Courier did not say anything.

"I said: How did you get inside?" the machine repeated in English in a monotone voice with a deep tenor.

"Forced our way in," he responded.

"I know that. But how did you get here? Inside this tower?"

"I used the elevator."

"There is no way for you to access that, as a human. Unless you bypassed the security systems, but that is improbable. You had help from outside. Who?"

Nathan was silent as the blue orb kept staring at him, the pupil neither contracting nor expanding. Coldly focused on him, studying him, but seeming lifeless even for a machine.

Suddenly, the lights flickered in the room and Nathan heard the powering surging within the walls come to a stop.

"You don't know who it is," the machine observed, its pupil contracting.

"Whatever you say," the human said as he retrieved the EMP charge from his pack.

"I suspect the sudden and powerful EMP discharges that occurred within the facility are of your doing. Even now, systems I have in place to counteract your efforts are beginning to fail from these unprecedented EMP levels. I have never encountered anything like this before."

The Courier said nothing as he flipped a switch and watched lights on the charge blink. There was a screen that indicated the explosive's charging time. It was at 2% and growing. Nathan walked up to the pylon and an activated magnet stuck the charge to the metal hull. The pupil glancing to where he put it.

"You're going to destroy me?" it calmly asked.

"You look important," the Courier said.

"Wait."

A panel in the floor opened up and the Courier was about to fire his weapon into it before a sterile white pod as tall as him floated out of the hole. A panel separated and slid open to have a nude man fall to the floor in front of it. Nathan slowly walked over to the man until noticing there were glowing dog tags still hanging off his neck. Picking them up to see they were written in Russian. He put his finger against his neck and could feel a pulse.

"He was one of two I captured and promptly interrogated. Naturally, he was stubborn but lasted longer than the other one."

"Where's the other one?"

"Dead. Disposed of the body. Now, as several of my systems are now going to fail inevitably because of these breaches in the facility and security systems. Conserve as much power and shut down nonessential protocols, such as keeping him imprisoned."

Nathan stared at the orb, almost seeing the room's reflection in it.

"You're savoring your last moments, aren't you?"

The pupil flickered.

"You wouldn't?"

"Hmph."

"Your dismissal of the question and the pattern with which you speak suggest you seem unsure."

"You're my doctor now?"

"I find the juxtaposition between my reluctance to my eventual destruction and your compliance with unfortunate odds… Interesting. Even in casual settings like this, humans and omnics, make an appeal to a factor within their lives that give them a 'purpose'. Or whatever is labeled as such. But you, you're different. Not something shallow like 'special', but not the usual sentient specimen."

"Okay," the Courier got up and walked over to where he planted the charge. "I'm tired of this."

"Wait, can you please tell me what the device on your wrist is?" the orb pleaded. "I've never seen anything like it."

The Courier ignored the machine as crouched down to see the charge was almost at full power and ready for detonation.

"Please, don't."

"Shut up."

The Courier waited for another response but got nothing as the pupil kept staring at him, flicking as the colors around it twitched to different shades of blue. Sometimes purple.

As he waited for the display to reach full charge, he saw the elevator shaft flood with a blue light. Then, Zarya, Jesse, and Satya floated in on a solid platform of blue light. They all looked surprised to see Nathan had reached the room before them.

"Brin?" Zarya questioned as she stepped off the hard-light elevator. "How did you get here?"

"The elevator," Nathan answered. "Found one of the operators, too. Held prisoner. There was another one, but he's dead. Body was disposed of."

The newcomers saw the naked man in the corner and Zarya hurriedly ran over to him. Turning him on his back and putting a hand on his chest.

"He's still alive," she said, picking him up.

As Satya walked over to Zarya and summoned a floating stretcher bearer for the prisoner.

"Hey, Nathan, did that machine say anything?" McCree asked, eyeing the solid blue orb now.

"Not much. Tried to plead for its life. Trying to tell me someone from the outside helped me get here."

Zarya's glanced to Nathan when she heard what he mentioned, then to the pylon he was standing next to.

"Really?"

"No. And I ain't got time for this… Zaryanova, you wanted to get in here, right? Want to do anything before I waste this machine."

She looked at him, her face solid as metal. She considered what she was sent here to do, who she was sent here with, and what she had just heard. She thought about speaking up but was uncertain it was her place to do so. Nathan having got there before she did. Zarya looked up a moment later and shook her head.

"Kill it."

The Courier looked over to the blue orb, the pupil having fizzled out moments earlier in purple static. He flipped the switch on the charge, resulting in a sudden burst of energy conducted into the pylon and enshrouding it in a field of crackling static electricity. The blue orb shook violently before it ultimately fizzled out of existence. Zarya looked away from the pylon, realizing she had been holding her breath.

Shortly, the EMP charge fizzled and fell off.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," the Courier demanded.

The four humans, including the one they carted on a stretch, got to the elevator shaft and stepped onto another platform the Vishkar Architect constructed. The ride down wasn't nearly as fast as the original elevator, taking a good minute for them to reach the ground floor. Things were silent for most of the ride. Nathan leading the silence as he stood in front of everyone and was ready to step off into the lower ground. Suddenly, after they got halfway down the shaft, they all felt the facility tremble.

"What was that?" Satya asked, keeping control of the platform.

Several more trembles were felt until they finally got down and hopped off to see that multiple explosions had gone off. Already, the facility was starting come down on itself.

"The hell happened?!" McCree exclaimed.

"Who gives a shit?! Let's go!" Nathan yelled back.

They didn't argue as Satya created another set of stairs that got them off the catwalks and they began running to the exit. Originally, they planned to head back to where they originally came in but falling construction equipment and machinery blocked their path. But hope came when another, large explosion occurred on the other side of the facility, along with gunfire occurring.

"He-hey…! Are any of you in there?" they heard Winston over their comms, still a bit of static laden in between.

"Winston, yeah, we're here! Where are you?"

"At the entrance, we finally got through the perimeter defenses. Get out of there quick, Torbjörn said the facility's going through some kind of fail-safe measure! We'll be waiting… Fawkes, we don't need more explosions!"

"Well, that explains a lot! We're heading there right now."

The group then began running through the facility to the front entrance, where they could see light spilling in from a big hole that was blown into it. However, obstacles, in pieces or otherwise, hampered them as they tried to maneuver the wounded soldier along with them. More often than not, debris, fire, and explosions got into their way, so Satya was busy putting up shields at appropriate times. And omnics still out for blood fired upon them.

"Goddammit!" Jesse yelled, shooting at drones encircling them through the fires. "How far is the exit?"

"Not far!" Zarya yelled as she put more effort into pushing the wounded soldier through the facility than using her cannon.

They got farther along, the light from the entrance seeming closer, but they still had quite the distance to it as they tried to traverse this facility. As Nathan kept his eyes on the sky, he spotted something blue flying high up near the facility's roof. It was Fareeha.

"Hey!" he yelled, firing his rifle into the air to catch her attention.

It worked, as Fareeha spotted them and quickly flew down to where they were.

"You're alive!" she greeted, almost smiling if it wasn't for all the explosions going off around them. She went over to the wounded man on the stretch bearer and picked him up. "I'll tell the others where you are and your path from here on out seems clear but get over to the entrance quick! Double time it!"

Fareeha rocketed off with the prisoner in her arms, leaving the able-bodied ones on the ground.

"I suggest we follow Capt. Amari's advice," Vaswani said, becoming uneasy with the fire surrounding her.

Without a wounded man to worry about, the group hurried at a faster pace, but the collapsing omnium didn't make it any easier for them. Satya trying her best to maintain the group's well-being, Zarya even throwing up a shield or two when debris got too close. But halfway to the entrance, they came across a huge mound of debris in their path.

"Cover me, I will create a path," the Vishkar Architect said, waving her hands around before creating a set of blue translucent stairs that bounded over the obstacle.

She let the others go first, and when they got over to the other side she climbed up and down the steps as well. Soon, joining them.

"Never been more thankful for stairs in my life," McCree joked but was probably genuine.

Unfortunately, no one could relish in his humor as the mound suddenly erupted and a large leg sprouted from beneath it. Satya – last one to climb the stairs – was too late as she was buried by some of the falling debris, and the others watched as a damaged but still dangerous arachnoid faced them. Zarya was the closest and spun her weapon around to fire but was thrown into a solid metal wall by one of the legs. McCree fanned the hammer and emptied all six rounds but only served to annoy it before it leaped at him. He rolled out of the way and the creature slipped on an oil leak running across the floor. Groaning, McCree grabbed the Pulse Grenade given to him earlier and tossed it to Nathan, who ran towards the omnic before hopping onto it. He pulled the pin, but that was as far as he got as it suddenly bucked upwards and began to shake violently once it realized a human was on top of it, Nathan losing grip of the grenade and sending it flying off somewhere. That didn't deter Nathan as he cried out and hanged onto the machine, seeing there was exposed wiring. Reaching and crawling over to that exposed spot, Nathan crouched on top of the arachnoid and pressed the AK's muzzle right against it. He clamped down on the trigger and fired the entire magazine, watching as layers of wiring and electronics practically disintegrated from the full-auto burst. Nathan feeling the gas and flash on his mask. 3-4 seconds was all it took for the omnics to keep writhing until it finally collapsed with a might thud, the light fading from its eye. Nathan hopping off just a second later, his breathing a bit heavy. Was only shaken out of it when he heard pained moans to the side.

Nathan ran over and quickly found where Satya Vaswani had landed. She was alive, but now had a large metal slab crushing her left arm. A huge, tortured grimace on her face as she tried to set it free. Screaming in pain when she moved too much.

"Nathan…" she tried to say through clenched teeth but let out another scream. "Aggghhh!"

"McCree! Zaryanova! Get over here!" Nathan screamed as he grabbed the metal slab and tried to lift it as hard as he could. Feeling pressure well up in his arms, chest, and legs as he exerted as much strength as he could. McCree ran over and saw what was happening, immediately running to Nathan's side to help him up. Even together they couldn't get the slab to move even a smidge. Only letting go when a nearby explosion offset their balance.

" _Are baap re_ …" Satya meekly said, looking at the slab holding her prisoner. "I'm trapped."

Nathan stood back and looked at the slab where her arm was. Blood was seeping out of from under it and began staining her clothes. Another explosion going off near them. Thinking quickly, he reached to the back of his belt and pulled out his knife.

"I'm sorry…" Nathan mumbled as he crouched down. "Jesse, keep her still!"

"What?!" Satya exclaimed, wondering what he said until realizing he was holding his knife.

The Gunslinger couldn't say anything as he knelt down and grabbed her hand and shoulder. He knew full well what was coming but already started to feel a knot bound up in his stomach. Satya could only watch helplessly as Nathan brought down the knife to her crushed, ruined arm and positioned it underneath her flesh, the blade upwards.

"Nathan, please! Nathan, I beg of you, don't do this-!"

In one swift motion, Nathan's blade sliced through the flesh of Satya's left arm with ease, the bone having turned into powder by this point. Satya let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed over the collapsed factory while her legs flopped over the ground, Jesse trying to keep her still but cringing from the sight. More blood dripping out where her arm used to be. Slowly, Satya's agonized scream shifted into equally agonized sobbing with tears streaming down her face. Nathan ripped off the AK's sling and turned it into a makeshift tourniquet around what remained of her left arm. He then pulled out a Med-X syringe out of his pack and jammed it into her left shoulder. With Jesse, they picked her up and got her to her feet. As they did, Nathan looked and saw the rest of the Overwatch team running to them.

"Get her to Dr. Ziegler, now!" Nathan told Jesse, pointing at the approaching team.

"What about you?" he asked as he picked Satya up, bridal-style.

"I'll get Zaryanova. Go!"

Jesse simply nodded before he turned and started running to the others as quickly as he could. Nathan wiped Satya's blood off his knife, still warm, and sheathed it as he ran to where he last saw Zaryanova. He saw the Russian soldier slumped against the wall and holding her head, trying to get up.

'What the fuck am I doing?!' Nathan thought as he bent down and got one arm over his shoulders. His other arm holding the AK. "Hey, Zaryanova, get up!"

"Ugh…  _Nyet_ … Leave me…" Zarya muttered barely in the right mind to speak.

"The fuck are you talking about?! I don't like you, but I'm dragging your ass out of here."

Looking ahead, he saw McCree was able to reach the others and that they were running to him, as well, but a large pillar fell right in front of them. Nathan lost balance and fell, dropping Zarya, too. He looked up to see the path was obstructed, again, and there was no way to climb over or blast through it.

"Nathan! Hold on!" he heard Reinhardt yell. "Don't worry, we will try to get to you! We- Look out!"

Several omnics leaped out of nowhere and began attacking the group on the other side. Nathan scrambled to his AK and was about to fight until he looked back to notice Zarya walking into a hall, balancing on her cannon.

"Hey, where are you going?" Nathan called out and followed her, where she got up to a big wall and plopped down on the floor.

"I… Will make door," she said in labored breaths as she gripped her cannon and racked the handle. "Hit me."

"What?"

"I need charge… Hit me… Shoot me!"

Nathan looked at the wall and to her before he dropped the AK and pulled out his Brush Gun. Making sure it was loaded with the hottest rounds he had. Cranking the lever with a meaty clunk. He nodded to Zarya, pressed a trigger on her cannon that made a barrier appear around her.

"Go!"

Nathan quickly fired .45-70 Govt's point-blank at Zarya, bouncing off the shield with such intensity. With every shot, coils on Zarya's armor glowed brighter and brighter until she became a conduit. When Nathan finally emptied his rifle, Zarya dropped her shield and pointed her cannon at the wall.

A large and thick beam of energy surged forth from the cannon and stuck the wall, already beginning to make parts of it melt. She kept this going for half a minute, the heat from her beam spreading through the metal wall. Her weapon seeming like it was going to overload and explode into a cascade at any moment. Finally, the beam died down and a roughly human-sized hole leading to the outside was presented to them.

"Go…" she said with one more breath before she slumped into the floor.

Nathan looked at the wall and considered running as the place was going to blow any minute but looked at Zaryanova. The large woman using the last spurts of energy she had to save him. Someone he punched without warning, earlier.

He went over and picked her up from behind by grabbing both her arms from under them and began backing up into the human-sized hole. Leaving behind her cannon as he could only carry so much by this point. After ducking between molten and scarred metal, they had finally reached the snow, but Nathan kept going. Aiming for the tree line which couldn't have been more than a couple hundred meters away, probably far enough before the place blew up. The New Californian finding himself welcoming the cold snow after being cooped up in that place for a while. He labored under carrying someone almost as big and heavy as him plus a couple more pounds of armor atop of that. The snow not making it any easier as his legs had to heave its way across the ground. But he, fortunately, got to the tree line as a large explosion erupted from the facility and Nathan threw Zarya behind a tree as he took cover behind another.

The explosion powerful enough to make the ground shake was also powerful enough to send metal and debris flying for miles, and the big fireball was bright enough to blot out the sun for a moment. Nathan even felt the heat of the explosion as he was covered in snow. Then, fiery rubble fell to the ground, some as large as the omnics. Some were the omnics. And Nathan hugged to the tree for a good minute until the explosions stopped and he felt the heat get off his back. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked up to see the facility was now a mangled shell, the erupted roof stretching out to the sky like bones.

"Hey, is anyone there?" he called out on the comms, but static.

Suddenly, something large fell into the snow from the roof of the omnium, and Nathan looked up to see it was a dead arachnoid. At least, he thought it was dead at first before it snapped one leg up and stood itself up, covered in soot. Unfortunately, it spotted the human hiding behind the tree line and roared.

"Shit!" Nathan cursed as he reached to his belt and scrambled to unhook a Pulse Grenades.

The arachnoid covered ground fast, faster than a deathclaw. It got halfway to the tree line when Nathan finally unhooked one of the grenades, pulled the pin, and threw it at the omnic. Landing somewhere in the snow, the omnic was bounding over until a sudden cascade of electricity instantly fried its wires and sent it tumbling into the snow. Skidding to a stop just meres inches from Nathan.

His breathing was ragged by that point and he was about to sit down to rest until he heard more roars echo from the omnium. Then, he heard a slight ticking noise echo from his Pip-Boy. Faint but continuous.

He tried to establish contact again as he went over to Zarya and heaved her over his shoulder. Again, there was static. While he could walk his way back to the Outpost on foot, that would be suicide with both the straggler omnics and the radiation about. Acting on instinct by this point, he wanted to put as much distance between him and the radiation, for the time being, so he went north. Hoping to find somewhere to rest as he carried Zaryanova over his shoulder.

* * *

Between the nearby screeching of marauding omnics, the tick of his Pip-Boy's Geiger counter, and the cold welling up in his feet, they all made Nathan focus on getting away. It was the cold that made his mind feel blank other than thinking about survival. Zaryanova was unconscious for the entirety of this trip, but Nathan felt her stir slightly on several occasions. He didn't get an opportunity to rest or check on her as it always seemed there was something else moving in the snow – stalking them. Nathan looked, seeing nothing but miles of tall trees everywhere. Checking his Pip-Boy to make sure he was still going north. Checking occasionally if he could reach anyone on his radio. He couldn't.

It had gotten darker and colder the further he went up north, the trees obscuring sunlight from reaching the ground. He could always trek for hours on end through the blistering days and chilly nights of the Mojave, Baja, and Great Basin. But he'd be damned if he could go a single day through this goddamned snow, where he felt every step bite at his feet. He considered stopping his trek north to loop around now and see if he could make it back to the outpost on foot, but he was cold. The metal helmet as cold as ice by now. The air still dead.

It had been an hour or two since he started running, but it seemed his effort would finally pay off when he saw something break the tree line up ahead. He could see a settlement, not an omnic erected base but an actual human village. Homes of wood and concrete with snow piled on the roofs. Unfortunately, when the New Californian got to the road that led through the village from the forest, he knew something was wrong. The dead air extended to this little village, and there was no life or light to be seen from any of the homes.

Feeling the knot in his shoulder winding up again, he set Zarya down against a nearby fence. She was still breathing, and Nathan felt a heartbeat on her neck; better built for this weather than him. He got up and faced the road again.

The snow piling on the roofs and the roads were the first indication, the lack of any living activity was the second. Yet, Nathan felt an uneasy twinge go up his spine while he slowly walked across the road with the AK at the ready. The air started to get heavy as the sun's light became scarcer. Seeing his own breath in the air in front of his mask. None of the homes looked like anyone had been inside them for weeks, months maybe. Some of the homes were wide open as if the occupants had left in a hurry. The air got thicker, and he started breathing heavier. Almost not wanting to call out to anyone in fear of disrupting the silence.

Too focused on the road ahead, Nathan tripped and fell face down into the snow. He quickly got up, pointing his rifle to what may have tripped him until he saw it was a man's face. Lying with their face up and having turned blue from being buried under snow for God knows how long. Nathan held his breath until he noticed there were other mounds in the snow. Against his better judgment, he quickly crouched down and threw the blanket of snow from this part in the road until he had uncovered two other people buried beneath. One was a woman facedown on the road and another a child, unable to tell what they were because of the clothing they had on. Large holes ripped through their clothing with blackened stains on the road. Nathan slowly stood up from the corpses, unwittingly staring at them for a minute while the wind around him got louder. When he finally looked up from their bodies, the air around him had gotten colder, windier, and whiter. This blizzard appearing out of nowhere, unable to see either end of the street. He heard something and he flipped around with the AK towards where he thought he heard it, but only saw the wind whipping the snow up. Not even sure if he saw figures, trees, or the wind. Heat began to well up in his chest, his eyes and rifle twitching to what he thought he saw stalking him through the blizzard. The inside of his helmet becoming hot as his breath became ragged. Eventually, the snow was all he heard as he whipped around and around and around. Becoming dizzy as he writhed in the frosted town.

A minute later, Nathan kicked in the door of one of the homes and ran inside with Zaryanova over his shoulder. As he ran in, he plopped Zarya down onto a couch before falling to one knee. He quickly took his helmet off, sending it clattering to the wooden floor, and began gasping for air. His face was drenched in sweat and his left hand cupped the base of his neck as if to pull something off that was choking him. His hand feeling needles going through. His heart pumped gallons when he tried to steady his breathing, but he felt the cold, dead air bite even as he inhaled it. Soon, thankfully, his breathing was heavy but steadied at a calmer rate. The twinge running up his spine dampened, the warmth of his blood returning to what it should be. When his breathing stopped filling the room, he finally noticed the air is still next to him as he looked to see a man in a white shirt and camo pants pointing a handgun at his head.

Nathan looked down the barrel and breathed, looking at the man.

"You speak English?" the New Californian asked, unfazed.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man asked, gripping the pistol solid with one hand while he balanced on a stick with the other. "And what are you doing with Aleksandra Zaryanova?"

Nathan glanced down and saw the man's right leg was in a makeshift splint, the cloth tattered and discolored. Looking behind he saw the bedroom with a backpack and rifle propped against the bedroom wall.

"We were sent to deal with the omnium. Zaryanova, I, and a few others," Nathan explained as he grunted and got up to his feet. The Russian man backed away and kept the pistol trained on the New Californian, now towering over him. Nathan kept staring at him in the eye. "We were also tasked to find a group of Russian special forces that were sent here weeks prior if we could find them."

The man kept his pistol trained on Nathan, but his expression softened.

"You found them?" he asked.

"Three, but two of them were dead before we got there," Nathan said.

The man sighed, lowering his sidearm and turning around to limp to a chair adjacent to the couch Zarya was passed out on.

"I knew about Yuri," the survivor began. "I thought that rifle looked familiar. I watched as the round went right through him. And the others got surrounded by the damn omnics before I could do anything. It was only a matter of time before they got me, too."

"What are you doing out here?" Nathan asked, looking around the rundown house.

"I ran. Away. Until I got hurt and crawled all the way here. My radio broke so I'm stranded here. Surrounded by omnics."

Nathan looked at his wounded leg, noting that it was still intact and had bandages covering multiple lacerations. The omnics' weapons would've blown it right off.

"An omnic didn't cause that. What happened?"

"Bear trap. Got almost to the bone," the survivor said, grimacing slightly. "It might be infected by this point, I don't know."

"I know a doctor back at the outpost that could look at that. We should try to find a way there."

The survivor rolled his eyes and groaned, throwing a hand up into the air.

" _Ah, chyort_ … You fucking Americans and your 'can-do' attitudes! Thinking you can get me out of this alive. Cannot even let a man die in peace!" he exclaimed derisively. "I can't go."

"Waiting for your crippled ass to expire before I deliver it ain't on my schedule," Nathan growled, glaring daggers at the man. "And I'm  _not_  American."

"Canadian, then! What-the-fuck-ever!"

"Besides, the bulk of the omnic force is probably decimated by this point since we blew their base in the region up. We might have a chance to get back to your comrades."

"Yes, I had a feeling you may have been responsible for that explosion I heard and saw earlier. Now the forest is irradiated."

"Eh, place seems like a shithole anyway. Makes me wanna shoot myself every time I see snow."

Nathan looked out at the window, seeing nothing but a white veil covering it. Blinding white. Everywhere.

He then saw something flash through the snow storm outside before he picked up the AK and walked over to the window. Peering through as he crouched behind the wall, his eye's darted through the storm to pick through the icy curtain. He spotted a red light just hovering in the middle of the storm, then another, and another. The silhouettes of a dozen omnics were able to distinguish themselves in the snow. Nathan now felt the ground shake as an arachnoid walked with them.

" _Nam_   _khana_ …" the survivor said as he was subdued with grief when he looked through the window.

Nathan didn't say anything as the storm started to clear up and he could get a clear picture of the omnics right outside his door. Watching as one of the omnics stomped one of its big feet over the dead family, mangling the corpses like dog shit. Murderous figures in the snow, meandering as they please. Nathan felt the twinge crawl up his spine.

Nathan grabbed the last fresh mag for the AK and quickly swapped it, but not racking the charging handle yet to not alert the omnics. Next, he reached to the pouch again and pulled out one of the projectile grenades.

"Show me how to load this," the Courier quietly demanded.

"What?" the survivor asked.

"After I kill these omnics, you have by the hour to pack your shit up or I'm leaving you here to die of hypothermia so the Major can find your body later."

The Courier put his helmet on and looked at the survivor, expectantly. "Show me how to load this."

The Russian operator stood there, staring at those red eyes, barely able to see the man underneath them. He glanced to the grenade launcher before limping over and pointing, instructing him to just insert it into the tube and flip the safety off. The Courier did as he instructed, sliding the 40mm grenade into place and wrapping his fingers around the grip. He looked back up to the road, the omnics still there. The inside of his chest was getting hot, he slowly reached to the right side of his belt where his last Pulse Grenade was. Feeling it with his fingers.

As the heat got hotter, his breathing became shallower and more guttural the longer he stood there. Leaning against the front door and listening to the storm outside. Not even looking through the window but at the floorboards. Blankly staring at nothing as he felt his heart beat steadily when he wrapped his fingers around the door handle and slowly turned it.

The Courier opened the door and slammed it shut as he burst through, and the survivor dove to the floor and covered his ears. Immediately, he heard the arachnoid scream as the village was engulfed in a battle, an explosion happening within a second of it beginning. Hearing the AK go off before the omnics quickly drowned out the noise. The survivor twitched as he felt the ground shake from something heavy falling to the ground, but kept his eyes shut and tried to keep the noise from hurting his ears. Unsure if the noises he heard were the blizzard or the death rattles of omnics. Everything outside becoming nothing but noise for him. However, he could hear the AK slowly overtake the omnics, until it was the only one.

It stopped after 15 seconds.

When he heard nothing but the storm, the survivor slowly opened his eyes and peered to the front door. He could see from the window that the storm had died down somewhat.

The door swung open and Nathan walked through, his loaned winter jacket covered in black oil. The AK's barrel smoking.

"Get your shit ready, now."

The survivor said nothing as he quickly got up and limped over to the bedroom to pack up his belongings. Nathan went over to the couch and crouched down next to Zarya, putting his icy finger on her warm neck to find there was still a warm pulse. A mechanical noise made Nathan shoot up and look to the door. He dropped the AK and summoned All-American before he quickly ran out. The dozen or so omnics he had wasted, including the arachnoid, were all still dead and crumpled to the floor in a mess of oil and scrap. The storm began to let up, but Nathan's vision was still obscured as he went across the road. Hunched over his rifle, he scanned the village and tried to spot out anything from the wind. His heartbeat steady. Then, at the end of the road, he could see a large figure approach from the distance and Nathan snapped his rifle to it. The storm let up again and Nathan eased himself off the trigger when he saw it was an omnic dangling a few inches off the ground before the figure carrying it dropped it into the snow. Rutledge walking over it to greet Nathan.

He let his breath go.

* * *

Nathan stared at the campfire set outside of the outpost's medical tent. He nestled a hot cup of tea in his hands and savored as much warmth as he could through his fingers. He could hear the Russian soldiers celebrating a victory against the hated omnics as some of them meandered about with drinks and MRE's in hand. A few groups banded together and sung in their mother tongue, some Overwatch agents even joining them, excluding the omnics of course. Nathan just drank his tea next to the fire. However, he heard laughter as Brigitte sat on an adjacent log, looking at her phone. Acting as if she about to fall off her seat.

"What's so funny?" he suddenly found himself asking.

"Huh?" Brigitte looked up from her phone. "Oh, nothing, I was just looking at some funny holovids."

"Of what?"

"Cats."

"There's funny holovids of cats?"

"Yeah, lots! I know that might sound weird to you, but they can be really funny. Want to me show you some?"

"I'm… good. Thanks."

Nathan waved at her before he looked back into his cup of tea. Seeing oil stains on his face in the dim reflection.

He then heard Lena blinking about, blue flashes going off in his peripheral vision before she appeared where they were. Appearing next to Brigitte and hugging up to her while she extended her arm in front of them.

"Here's Brig!" Lena exclaimed.

"Hey," Brig waved to the phone.

And Nathan barely had time to react before Lena blinked right next to him, hugging right up to his shoulder.

"And here's Nathan!" she said, Nathan seeing that it was Emily who was on the phone in the middle of a video chat. It looked like day where she was.

"Oh, hey," he greeted towards the phone, giving a two-finger salute.

"Hi, Nathan!"

After pleasantries were exchanged, Lena blinked off, again. Blabbering on to her poor girlfriend and leaving Nathan to sit by the campfire. However, that didn't last as Nathan could hear someone approaching from behind and stood up to greet Dr. Ziegler, who had just come out of the medical tent.

"Nathan," she greeted

"Dr. Ziegler," he greeted. "How's Vaswani?"

"Right now, stable. I was able to stop the bleeding before she could go into shock. She was a bit restless afterward, acting somewhat delirious, but I was able to get her to lie down and rest. She couldn't really argue against doctor's orders."

"Good… That's good."

"Yes… And, I want to thank you for helping her get out there. Jesse told me what had happened. I know that was a hard decision to make."

"Well, between letting her die from getting crushed or helping her live, it wasn't that hard at all."

"I figured you were going to say that. But I also want to thank you for helping bring Zaryanova and the surviving operators back, safely. I heard you played a very significant part in that, as well."

Nathan smiled and laughed, remembering how he almost got himself and the others killed in that little stunt he pulled in the village. His smile quickly faded.

"I guess… You're welcome, Doc."

"Now, I know you declined when you first got here but… Are you sure you do not require any medical attention? Any pain that you've been feeling since the omnium or even before? I'd be more than willing to help, especially for you, Nathan. Or, maybe you just want to talk? My schedule's a bit open."

"I… Think, I'm good. Everything's fine, I'm just tired… But thanks for asking, like always, Doc."

Nathan smiled as he looked down at her until he noticed Zarya walking out of the medical tent, able to stand on her own.

"Umm… Excuse me, Doctor, but I think I'll head over to Zaryanova and speak with her for a bit. If that's fine."

"Of course, Nathan," Angela said, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," Nathan said, smiling at her before turning away and scooping up the AK from his seat.

As Nathan walked up to her, Zarya's expression seemed blank as she stared straight ahead. She noticed and promptly stopped in her tracks to face the large Waster walking up to her. One of the few people she could address at eye-level.

"Hey, Zaryanova, I-"

"Thank you," she immediately cut him off. "For saving my life."

"Oh, uh, you're welcome. I was about to say the same thing. Back at the omnium, that was some pretty creative thinking."

" _Da_ , it was. Do you need anything else?"

"Actually, here," Nathan held up the AK to her. "Figured you'd give it to Major Nikonov, so he can hand it to the quartermaster if you guys have one. You Russians make a fine rifle."

Aleksandra Zaryanova just raised an eyebrow, her eyes switching between the rifle and Nathan.

"Keep it," she said. "Consider it forgiveness for punching me in the face."

Nathan raised his eyebrow but didn't say anything else as he lowered his hand.

"You have a good right hook, though," she admitted before walking away without another word.

Nathan stood there and watched her go, losing sight of her when she made a turn right between some tents. He looked down at the rifle given to him, bearing signs of wear that weren't there when he first picked it up. Sighing, he throws the rifle into his left hand before walking away and trying to find somewhere to sleep.

He wanders around the camp with the AK dangling from his left arm and sees the post-victory mood still going strong. A lot of the Russian soldiers sitting around campfires and passing bottles of what he presumed was alcohol, but Nathan was fine with what was in his canteen. He did notice some Overwatch agents mingling with the Russian, the latter much warmer with the former considering recent events. Nathan even stopped as a male Overwatch agent ran in front of him and lead a female Russian soldier by the hand – the agent apologizing to him with a "sir" – as they went off to somewhere secluded, drunkenly giggling all the while. Unfortunately, Nathan wasn't in the mood to do the same.

Eventually, as he wandered about and got a look at the place, he found himself at the western edge of the outpost. However, he spotted some type of vehicle parked along there and saw a brunette woman in non-military clothing except for a vest with the word "PRESS" on it. She was talking with a Russian soldier who kept denying her entry while a small, red drone floated next to her.

"Please, I just want to speak with them, this is the closest any reporting station has ever gotten to them! Please, the world needs to know who they are!" this woman pleaded, but the soldier wasn't having any of it.

"Go. Away," the soldier calmly and slowly said, though, he sounded like he was struggling with the foreign words. "Is. Not. Safe!"

The woman groaned not getting anywhere, but she looked over and locked eyes with Nathan. He furrowed his brow before walking away from her sight.

Nathan Brin kept wandering the camp, not really sure why. His legs felt a bit restless, possibly more so than usual, but he just didn't feel like hitting the hay, yet. Feeling like there was still something out there for him to look at. The answer probably came when he looped back to the dropship and saw near the bay door Jesse and Fareeha talking to each other. Nathan got closer and heard what they were saying.

"I promise I'll be safe. It's just gonna be a quick trip back home," Jesse said to Fareeha, who had a visible but subtle look of concern on her. "Visiting old friends."

"Jesse…" Fareeha started, grabbing him by the shoulder. "I know this mission is very important, but are you sure?"

"Intel's solid. All I have to do is get there on time."

"I know you're always on time, but are you okay heading there by yourself?"

"Sure. Company would be nice but… I've got things handled on my end. Besides, it's a bit of a personal matter. Don't worry, it'll pay off in the end."

McCree said that last sentence without the humored inflection he always seemed to have.

"Just promise me you'll be safe, okay?" Fareeha wished of him.

"You're starting to sound like your mother," Jesse said, smirking.

"Ugh! Don't even start," Fareeha smiled. "Go get some rest, you've got a long day, tomorrow."

"Can do."

They separated, Fareeha going into the dropship while Jesse went the opposite way. However, as he went on to obey a direct order, Nathan walked up to him.

"Hey, McCree."

"Hey, partner. What can I do for you?"

"I overheard your conversation with Amari."

"You did?" he said, acting offended for a few moments before smirking. "And?"

"You need someone to tag along?"

"Really? You're offering help? That's mighty unlike you, Brin."

"Oh, fuck off," Nathan rolled his eyes.

"Besides, you should've heard that I'm fine being on my lonesome for this one. It's sort of related to what we talked about last night."

"I know, but…"

"But what?

Nathan looked at McCree, frowning. Even he had just caught himself doing this and wondered if he should even meddle in this. It was a personal matter to McCree, but that hasn't stopped Brin from getting wrapped up in the dozen or so personal matters beforehand.

"I dunno. Guess I just wanna get the fuck out of this cold," Nathan admitted, growling about the weather. "Any way I can."

"Can't blame ya'," Jesse sympathized. "Ain't exactly my weather, either. Still, this operation is delicate. Not sure if I need another gun for it."

"I ain't just another gun, though. I'm pretty sure you know that by now."

Hearing that, McCree thought to all the times he's seen the Waster in action, the way he fights, the way he shoots. The Gunslinger always considered himself a good shot and the only other person he would ever hold in higher regard being Fareeha's mother. But Nathan… There was something more "vicious" with the way he fired his guns. Scarily accurately.

"Hmph, I'll consider it."

They went off to finally get some rest.


	60. Get Your Kicks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revision 2/2/2019: Formatting issues with D.Va and D.Mon's callsigns. Fixed.

Busan, South Korea

Like much of the country, the city of Busan shined bright and colorfully in the dead of the night. A rainbow of flashing lights and colors radiating out from the city skyline and into the surrounding air, reflecting off the dark sea. Regardless of whether Busan was asleep or not, the Mobile Exo-Force of the Korean Army vigilantly stood watch on their platform just a few kilometers off the city's coast. Busan is home to some of the staff and pilots stationed on the Korean military base, while others were just doing their duty of protecting and serving their nation.

In the case of the base's newest arrivals, only one of them originally fought for the safety of her country before going on to more grandiose things.

"Tell Fare we're safe and sound here in Busan, Winston. Or should I say Wizz?" Jesse chuckled, holding the holopad that had the Scientist's face streaming to him, standing outside one of their parked dropships.

"Very funny, Jesse," Winston responded, rolling his eyes. "Glad to see the Koreans, or at least MEKA, are still gracious to us after we've helped them. Feels like it happened a long time ago, now…"

"A lot certainly has happened since, then. Like having Hana join us after that, against her better judgment, for starters."

"Yes, and all the other things that came after… Like Brin."

"Eeyup. How's Bastion by the way? Figured I'd pass on to Nathan what's happening in his absence."

"Bastion's fine. So is that bird, too. Fareeha is still trying to figure out exactly what role Bastion should have with us, but Major Nikonov is giving her some suggestions."

"Like what?"

"Well, there are talks about using Bastion's omnic hardware and software as a means of infiltrating the Siberian omnic network, with him being one of the last Omnic Crisis-era Bastions left. One that's cooperative, too. However, Fareeha and I don't want to risk having Bastion be compromised as a result, but Nikonov is insistent."

"Figures. Always thought the big ole' robot would better to have at your side as another gun. A living gun."

"Ehhh… We'll see about that. Message us when you're done refueling and heading stateside, Jesse. Oh, and I already know you have your own reasons for going there, but if you can, try to link up Jack and Ana, please. It's been a while since I've heard anything from them when they went to Groom Lake."

"I'm sure they're fine. Y'know how they are: old soldiers, 'hard to kill', and all that. But if I need to make a detour and find 'em, I'll let you know. Later."

The holopad blinked off and McCree was left to watch over the ship while it was refueled and maintained by some of the MEKA crew helping them. Wishing he could find a place to smoke.

On the other side of the base in an area that had a launching ramp pointed outward to the Korean Strait, Hana, wearing a pair of slim jeans and a black MEKA branded jacket, sat on some crates while chatting with one of the other mech pilots on base – a woman with roughly the same complexion and height as her, if a bit taller. She had black hair that was parted to the right and only reached down to the base of her neck. The mech pilot also wore a MEKA jacket but had a suit similar to D.Va's underneath but bright red. On the white part of her left thigh, the callsign "D.Mon" was sketched into it.

The two mech pilots were catching up – obviously in Korean – since Hana had not been there for quite some time. Catching up on stuff like how they've been, what they've been doing in her absence, what she's been doing in her absence, and so on. Was nice to talk with her friends actually face-to-face and not through a holoscreen for once.

"So, yeah. I helped Overwatch secure a big victory for the Russians in Siberia. No biggie," Hana casually bragged to her friend as she stretched her arms upwards, acting tired.

"Yeah, sure you did," D.Mon replied, rolling her eyes. "I bet your team had to carry you and you didn't even get a majority of eliminations. Like I always had to."

"Of course, not! I wasn't the only one and there were a lot of us. Still doesn't mean I didn't get a lot of elims."

"You didn't stream the battle this time, so how do I know you're not lying?"

"I'm not! And you're one to talk, Yuna. Always getting your mech scrapped every other battle with the Gwishin."

"Really? You're going to lecture me on that?"

"Ugh, whatever!"

Yuna laughed at Hana's expense, the pink mech pilot becoming a little grumpy as she aggressively sipped Nano-Cola that came with the dinner they were having together.

"Still, being with Overwatch… I have to remind myself that's what you're doing, now," Yuna admitted, shaking her head but still smiling. "You know how often Kyung-soo and Seung-hwa complain how you're with Overwatch and they're not?"

"They're more than welcome to join," Hana stated, grabbing her noodle cup.

"Yeah, but with everything that has Captain Myung worried, including the Gwishin, they're probably not going to set foot off base for a while. Doesn't stop them from complaining, unfortunately. Always going on about how cool it must be and how awesome some of the Overwatch agents are. They even got Jae-eun to watch your streams, now."

"Really?" Hana asked, mildly surprised with strands of noodles hanging from her mouth. "He never watches anyone else's stuff!"

"I know, and to be honest, I kind of got interested, too."

Hana frowned at her with a mouth full of noodles before gulping it down.

"I thought you didn't like Overwatch?" she asked.

"Eh, I still think this is one of the stupidest ideas you've ever done and are putting your career at risk, but they seem cool I guess," Yuna explained, shrugging. "I do think it's weird how you refer to some of them as 'Dad' or 'Mom', though."

"You wouldn't understand," Hana defended. "There are some cool people in this New Overwatch and I'm friends with them! And you know I don't take my name calling lightly, so the ones who got their names earned it."

"Really?" Yuna posed, deviously perking an eyebrow before she looked away from Hana and towards the back of the launch bay. "Does he have one, then?"

Hana looked to where she was pointing and saw Nathan Brin following a young man in a MEKA branded mechanics uniform with fingerless gloves and short, black hair. Brin obviously towered over the Korean leading him, easy to spot amongst the base. If it wasn't his height or mass, though, it was his scars that made it so.

"Him?" Hana asked, worried that Yuna might ask more prying questions about him. "Uh… I call him 'Uncle'."

"Uncle?" Yuna repeated, knitting her brow. " _That's_  Uncle?! The one you've been telling us about in the group chats?"

"Uh, yeah."

Yuna, visibly surprised, looked back at the tall Waster as he was led further into the bay and out of sight. She looked back at Hana with a devilish smile that didn't look right in the light.

"You never told me how  _handsome_  he was," she said.

"What?!" Hana exclaimed, her face scrunching up in surprise and disgust. "Eww!"

"I just only wish all of you could stay here a bit longer so I could try my shot with him. Wonder how many scars he has."

"He's like 40!"

"So? I like older men."

"Ugh, I regret coming here, now. Don't say anymore or else you can say goodbye to that Lúcio autograph I promised."

Inside the room he was just led in to, Nathan saw five bays each with a distinct color and mech, excluding one. The first four bays – ranging from green, red, yellow, and blue – all had mechs that were different in color, size, and shape to Hana's "egg".

"These are where our pilots keep their mechs when it's their downtime," the young mechanic started to explain. "This is where I spend a lot of my time, though. Making sure each and every one of these beauties are in top shape."

"Huh," was all Nathan could really say, examining the impressive hardware. He still believed "mechs" were just fancier power armor.

As Nathan examined the mechs, the young man looked at him and wondered how he got wrapped up in giving this monster of a man a tour of the base. Of course, when someone as large and scary as him – presumably a friend of Hana's from Overwatch of all things – just walks up to him, asks if he speaks English, and then asks to show him around the place, he wasn't confident to say "no". Thankfully, he was rather polite and civil, quieter than he expected. More interested in listening and watching than speaking. Pleasant, so far, but if he was a part of Overwatch, he didn't want to know what he was like when he wasn't.

"Hey, uh… Sorry, what was your name, again?" Nathan asked.

"Oh, uh, Dae-hyun," the mechanic answered.

"Okay, Dae-hyun. I presume the last bay – the pink one – belongs to the kid, right?"

"You mean Hana? It does, but obviously, she hasn't used it since she joined you guys a while back."

"So, it seems."

Nathan walked up to the occupied bay doors, examining each of the color-coordinated mechs. He didn't need to be a Brotherhood Scribe to realize the serious hardware that each of these things boasted and the damage they could do. The closest example he could think of was just Power Armor with jetpack units strapped to them, but he wasn't sure they were nearly as maneuverable from what he's seen Hana do. It made him wonder, though.

"So, what kind of power supply do these things run on?" Nathan asked, interested in what runs them.

"Oh, uh, well, I can't really give the specifics. You know, classified military specifications and such. But they do each run on fusion reactors custom-built and tailored for their individual configurations. Hana's mech I think has the largest power output out of all them."

"How long does the power last in these things?"

"We charge them after every deployment, but I think the longest they can last is… About a month."

Nathan blinked.

"What? That's it?" he asks, genuinely surprised machines as sophisticated as these had such measly charges.

"That's the longest anyone has been able to manage for suits like these. Well, for any powered suit like these," Dae-hyun responded, equally confused in Nathan's reaction. "Why? Do they have something better in America? Or in Overwatch?"

Nathan blinked again as he looked at him. Wondering how to respond.

"Not… 'American' per se, but the suits of Power Armor I've used have fusion cells that can last for a couple hundred years without charge."

Dae-hyun blinked this time.

"What?! A couple hundred years?! I-I don't believe that. It sounds out of this world!" the MEKA mechanic exclaimed.

"That's one way of putting it."

Before Nathan could even ask any more questions about the mechs or anything on this base, he heard his name echo from the halls and slowly get louder. He walked outside of the mech bay, Dae-hyun following. They walked outside and saw McCree talking to Hana and her friend.

"Have you guys seen Nathan?" they heard McCree asking them.

"I'm here! What's up?" Nathan called out, walking up to them.

McCree hurriedly walked up to him, visibly flustered.

"I just got a call from Fareeha. She got intel that the train just got scheduled to go a day earlier than planned!" he explained, holding up his phone.

"Ah, shit," Nathan cursed, now realizing the urgency. "Why?"

"I dunno, but all I know is that the train is going to get moving in just a few hours so we need to haul ass right now! But there's another problem, we can't take the dropship there anymore because she'll be too slow. I'd rather arrive on time if you can't tell."

Jesse turned to Hana. "Which is why I wanna ask if we can borrow one of the jump-jets on base? Something that's just fast enough to get the two of us there."

Hana, Yuna, and Dae-hyun all exchanged unsure glances with each other, realizing that even despite all the help they gave them this was a pretty tall order for the Korean Army from internationally recognized criminals.

"I'll ask Captain Myung," Hana stated as she hopped off the crate and ran to the other side of the base, Yuna and Dae-hyun following her.

"I'll get my gear," Nathan said as he ran off to where the dropship was parked.

McCree nodded and stood next to the metal crates with half-eaten Korean food. He looked out at the wide sea that the MEKA base pointed towards. The Exo-Force at least ready to deal with threats at a moment's notice.

* * *

A couple hundred miles west of Flagstaff, Arizona

Much like its flag suggests, Arizona looked stunning when the sun began to rise up from the horizons and shined upon the wide-open landscapes. Especially when the sun illuminated the tall, red rock spires that reached up to the sky. Large monuments that would humble any passer-by or traveler driving along these old, American roads. Many of those travelers and tourists, foreign or native, have been long gone in the late-21st-Century, but one of these old spires provided shelter for outsiders and native-born, alike.

High up on one of these rock spires, a campfire was set up next to Senior's parked truck, most of the gear and supplies still stowed on the bed and trailer. The campfire had been going on for the past couple of hours before the sun rose, with bedrolls placed next to them. One of the bedrolls was still occupied by Veronica, who struggled for a bit and got to sleep much later than the others. She hugged tight to Cooper, who was sharing the bedroll with her, both undisturbed by the sunset as it crept up on them. Cooper awoke to the sound of dirt scrapping and snapped his head up to see a hand come down on him.

"It's all right, boy," Ana said to the dog, petting him gently and assuredly.

Cooper didn't make any objections, only yawning in response before laying his head back down on the bedroll. He didn't know them long, but he liked the old lady and that masked man. They reminded him of Nathan.

Ana then reached over to Veronica and calmly shook her shoulder. It didn't take much to wake her as shook herself asleep, rising off the ground a bit. She slept much better other days, long past.

"Come on. It's time to wake up, now," Ana said, a motherly tone almost creeping in. "Morrison's got something to say."

"Yes, ma'am," Veronica couldn't argue, despite how rattled her head still felt.

"Just call me Ana."

Veronica got up from the bedroll, leaving Cooper to rest, and looked around to see everyone else up. Parmley and that masked man sat around a campfire, the latter examining a paper map while the other tended to a pot. Boone and Rex were standing watch near a cliff edge, overlooking a wide-open stretch of desert that slowly became draped in sunlight.

'He was always the first one up,' Veronica silently remarked about Boone as she went over and took a seat next to the campfire.

Parmley offered a cup of what was in the pot and she took it, taking a sip and not recognizing this brew from any of their packs. A sweet and soft mixture that had a bit of spice to it.

"That's a brew Ms. Ana had in her pack. Not half-bad," Parmley explained, having a cup for himself.

Veronica looked at Ana as she approached Boone and Rex, telling them to head to the campfire. The fellow Sniper nodded, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and patting Rex on his metal side.

When everyone had gathered at the campfire, Ana prompted Jack to start. Jack nodded before standing up from his seat and waving the others to follow him. They were soon standing around the hood of the truck where he set the map down flat over it for all of them to see. The Arizona sun giving them all the light they needed.

"Okay, here's the situation," the Soldier started. "Our comms are still being jammed by the government, so any contact with the rest of Overwatch simply isn't getting through. Because we're still being tailed by them and I don't they'll quit anytime soon, our best bet is to head to an old abandoned Overwatch base that is right here."

The ex-Strike-Commander planted his finger on green mass that was close to a municipal area. The label for the green mass was obscured by his finger.

"Ecopoint: Tonto, just northeast of Phoenix, which should be abandoned barring some possible security. But after we get there, there should be some communications equipment or the other that should at least let Overwatch know where we are. Getting there is going to be the hard part."

He then planted his finger on a thin yellow line that was northwest of Phoenix but at a much greater distance on the map. The paper that map was printed on was wrinkled, water-damaged, and looked as old as the car it was stowed in. When they peered closer to where his finger was, they could faintly make out the old label for the road he was pointing to. Seeing the numbers "66" attributed to the route.

"Because we're here," Jack stated bluntly. "And we still got quite a ways before we can reach the Ecopoint. Might have to stick to this road for a while since not many people travel these parts, nowadays. Aside from criminals, like us. We might need to make a pitstop or two, though. And when we do, can I trust all of you to make sure you don't draw any attention to yourselves?"

The Wasters all exchanged glances with each other, Boone obviously being the most stoic of the three.

"Yeah, you bet. As long as we can get there, soon, and no one gets shot in the process," Veronica spoke.

"That might be a tall order for Jack," Ana joked, earning a concealed scowl from him.

"But, uh… This is really embarrassing to say, but do you guys have anything to eat?" Veronica asked somewhat timidly. "I looked over our stuff last night and we got mostly everything out from Goodsprings, but it turns out the sack with all our food wasn't one of them."

Jack and Ana exchanged glances, both of them silently noting how they only had enough rations for just the two of them.

"Huh, we might be making a pitstop earlier than expected, then," Jack stated before he grabbed the map and folded it. "Let's hit the road. We might find something and still put some good distance between us and the Feds."

The Wasters and Overwatch agents quickly tore down their camp, getting back on the road just as the sun was starting to reach the sky. There wasn't any sign of Feds tailing them, but they still traveled across the old road at a generous pace. The inside of the truck was silent for the most part, Veronica finding herself staring out of the window towards the desert, again. Albeit, an Arizonan desert she's never seen with her own eyes. Silently awed by how those large rock towers remained in the distance while she went the fastest she's ever gone in her life. The sun gleaming over the red rock. This ex-Scribe a long way from California now. With sites like these, she did wonder why they seemed to be the only person on these roads. Barring a few aforementioned exceptions, like criminals.

'Funny,' she thought to herself, realizing the irony of their standing in the law in a place they were not even in for long. 'One minute we're heroes to a small town, next minute we're wanted fugitives to a national government – the  _United States Government_!'

It was easy for that to remind her of Nathan, obviously. Only a little bit surprised that he wasn't there with her when all of it happened, which was typically the case back in the day. Pissing off all sorts of people no matter who they helped or assisted, sometimes pissing off the people they were trying to help.

'Some problems you can shoot in the head, others you can't…' Veronica recounted, solemnly, staring blankly at the Arizonan vista. 'Hope they aren't any worse than ours. At least the world seems intact.'

Veronica looked out into the Arizona desert, again. As stunning as it was desolate. 'For the most part…'

However, she had to remind herself that they were closer to finding Nathan and had a definitive answer of where he was. That he was alive, too! Veronica would've acted more excited and probably would've talked more of Ana's and Jack's ears off with questions about him, but she cautiously subdued herself from acting too much like herself. Cautious of the consequences of her own enthusiasm. In spite of all that, she wouldn't trade those times for anything else in the world.

But they were still outsiders far, far away from home.

* * *

The first few hours of trekking back through Arizona were relatively peaceful, yet the driver and co-pilot were relatively on edge. The passengers in the backseat were also wary, but there wasn't much for them to do about that other than look at the desert horizons for the twelfth time in a row.

In the first hour of their trip, the scenery started to change as the elevation of the road began to steadily rise until the truck was now winding up and down the sides of mountains. These roads were built next to canyons that were as deep as the rocks were tall, which the Wasters normally wouldn't mind if they weren't traveling at 50-60 miles per hour in an automobile.

Old Jack Morrison, however, loved it. More than he would care to admit or show under the mask.

Taking an old 2016 model with actual wheels along this old stretch of historical road was almost something of a childhood dream of his – one of many. He always wanted to see more of the country with his hands on the wheel or his feet on the ground. For people like him, unfortunately, that was never an option. Even after his duty was finished, he was more of a traveler than a sightseer. His co-pilot, when she wasn't scanning the mountainsides like a falcon, could tell he was probably enjoying himself a bit too much. Smiling at how smooth and gently he turned the wheel, shifted the gear, occasionally dipped below the posted speed limit, and spent more time looking at the rock spires than any encroaching threats in the rearview mirror. He eventually noticed Ana looking over at him with that smirk.

"What?" Jack asked, trying to be coy.

"Nothing," Ana assured, still smirking as she looked away.

The truck winded up more along old Route 66 when they entered a tunnel bored into the side of one of these mountains, Morrison turning on the car lights inside because the tunnel lights were too dim or damaged from years of disrepair. However, on the GPS, Morrison noticed there was a landmark up ahead that indicated food. Possibly a diner. He looked over at the passengers in the back, some of them getting restless from being cooped up in a moving vehicle for much longer than they have ever been. Then looking down at his own stomach and noting he was starting to feel peckish.

Looking at the clock, it was 11:49 AM.

"Alright, y'all hungry?" the driver asked, looking over his shoulder for a second. "I am. There's a place up ahead. Might be a diner. You do all know what a diner is, right?"

He felt like having waffles.

The truck exited the tunnel and immediately on their right was, undoubtedly, a diner. Morrison eased on the gas and drove the truck to a patch of dirt on the side of the road. The truck overlooking a canyon that was deep and wide, a rail-bridge spanning the entire length of it on great arches and came over the tunnel into the mountains.

"Ana, how about you take 'em outside and see if the place is still open for business?" Jack said as he twisted the ignition off.

"What about you?" Ana asked.

"I'll keep watch with the dogs. I'll join you in a bit."

"Okay."

Ana removed her seatbelt and opened her door, gesturing to the others to follow her out of the car.

"Oh, make sure you bring your weapons with you," Jack advised.

"What? Wouldn't that make people uneasy?" Veronica questioned.

"Out here, they'd wonder why you didn't bring any weapons."

So, the Wasters and Ana complied. All of them bringing their signature weapons with them.

With the Wasters in tow, Ana got to the front entrance of the diner. The door split open and separated automatically, and they walked in to greet the receptionist desk. At the desk was a woman older than Ana in a waitress's uniform, her face buried in a holopad and acting like she didn't even notice the door had opened. Even when the group the of armed individuals walked up to the desk, the old lady was too buried in what seemed to be some type of card game on her device.

Ana decided to take the initiative. "Hi, we'd like to-"

"Money or food?" the old lady boringly asks.

"Excuse me?"

"Money or food? You gonna rob us or you wanna eat?"

The Wasters exchanged glances with each other in varying levels of surprise. Ana frowned.

"Umm… The latter."

The Waitress sighed as she had put down her game and reached over to a pile of dusty menus.

"How many?"

"Five."

She grabbed five menus and got off her chair, waddling out from behind the desk.

"Umm, excuse me, miss?" Veronica piped up. "We also have two dogs outside. Is it okay if we-?"

"I don't care," she cut her off, more bored than annoyed. "This place won't look any different if there was a pile of dogshit on the floor."

"Oh. Uhm, thanks."

"Just so you know we don't accept credit chips, only cash."

The four followed the waitress into the restaurant, seeing the style of the décor and the furniture. Ana recognized the diner as being made in the style of 1950's America, while the Wasters recognized the style as Pre-War. Lots of stylized posters and pictures plastered over the walls, a little bar with cherry red stool-seats, and a working jukebox with actual vinyl records.

After they had gotten seated at one of the booths with a window and given their menus, Ana decided to check on Jack outside. Walking through a set of automated double doors dedicated to the booth wing of the diner, Ana walked outside to see Jack nor the dogs at the truck. She looked to her left and saw him sitting on the steps leading to the front entrance, the dogs sitting by his feet. He wasn't wearing his jacket nor his mask and was smoking a cigarette from a carton she knew he didn't have before. As she approached him, both the dogs walked up to her.

"Where did you get that?" Ana asked, not approving of what he was doing while she pets the dogs.

"From one of their packs," Morrison simply stated as he gave the cigarette a pull while he examined the carton. "They have a lot, so I'm sure they won't miss one. Consider it repayment."

"I thought you quit smoking, Jack?"

"That was a long time ago."

"When is it never?"

Ana rolled her eyes as she went over and sat down next to him, the two old soldiers staring down the old road. After giving another pull, Jack offered the cigarette to her. She squinted at both the cigarette and him.

"You know I want to be there when Fareeha has children, right?" Ana chided but took the cigarette from his ungloved hand and brought it to her lips.

Her eye was closed when she inhaled the cloud of lit tobacco into her lungs but immediately shot open as she began coughing. Violently hacking her lungs up into a closed fist while Morrison laughed. The two dogs looking at them.

"That is horrible!" Ana exclaimed between coughs, her face wrinkling more as she practically pushed the cigarette back into Jack's hand.

"It is! Isn't it?" Jack agreed, bringing it back to his lips and puffing a small cloud out. "If everything they and Brin said is true, these have to be 200-year-old cigarettes we're smoking."

"You're telling me that's what Nathan smokes every time I see him?"

"Yup, and I thought I had iron lungs."

Jack chuckled more as Ana's coughing fit subsided, the two sitting there and staring at the old road, again.

"Do you think after this, that'll be it? Brin will finally be out of our hair?" Morrison asked, exhaling a rather large cloud.

Ana looked at him, studying Jack with her one eye but he was rock solid. Unable to tell if he was elated at the news, or otherwise.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, reaching over and giving Rex a pat on the head. "But I guess for the sake of him and his friends back inside, I hope."

"You're gonna miss him," he teased.

"Perhaps. Although, he certainly doesn't call me 'Mama Bear'."

"He seems to respect you like one."

"…Perhaps."

"I wonder what the others will think."

Ana stood up, dusting herself off.

"Throw that away and come inside. It's almost lunchtime," she ordered as she was about to walk to the diner.

Suddenly, a train horn blared over the canyons and they instantly looked up at the bridge arching across. However, as the train had driven over them, several charges detonated at key spots along the arch. The dogs bolted towards the diner entrance, but the humans weren't quick enough on their feet.

"Ana!" Jack screamed as he wrapped his arms around her and they both fell to the ground. Trying to shield her with his body when concrete, metal, and train cars began to fall around them.

The ground shook as the train and its cargo spilled out onto the old road. The Wasters weren't even halfway through the menus when the bridge blew, and several hundred tons of cargo fell just feet outside of the window of their booth before rolling into the gorge. A moment later, both Cooper and Rex came running up to them barking their heads off, but the others were silent after witnessing what just happened. Never seen something like that ever happen in their lives. They wasted no time grabbing their weapons and walking out into the turmoil. The jukebox's music returning to normal after a few seconds.

Once the automatic doors opened, the Wasters were met with a cloud of dust and smoke that hung in the air from the train crash. Veronica having to shield her eyes, at first. The sight of the train wreck was the first thing they could even see through this cloud, cargo and train parts strewn all over the road with several patches of fire next to them. The train cars all had an encircled white star painted onto all of them, and most of their cargo seemed to be crates or boxes with similar markings or none. However, they couldn't find the Overwatch agents.

"Ana? Jack?" Veronica called out but received no reply. Unable to find them where they were standing just a few minutes ago. That cloud hurting her eyes. "Ana! Jack! Are guys okay?"

Then, her eyes widened upon the realization that the truck carrying all their gear and equipment might have been one of the many things crushed in this incident. Worrying that they may have lost more than the old soldiers.

"Try to find Jack and Ana, okay? I need to check on our things," she told Parmley before storming off and not even giving him time to respond.

Running through the smoke, covering her nose and squinting while she wafted through the cloud. Eventually, she found the truck still parked in the same place but quickly became distraught upon realizing that it was pinned under a train car. The truck itself was crushed, beyond repair, but the bed and the trailer hitched to it seemed mostly intact. She ran up to their gear, still covered in a tarp, and tried to find a way to free them. She was too busy pulling on a chain to notice someone walk up behind her and place the twin barrels of a shotgun on her back. Veronica froze once she felt it, slowly turning her head to see who it was.

"Hands up," she heard a man speak while he cocked the shotgun. "Boss! We've got a live one here!"

She felt the shotgun push into her. "Move."

Veronica did as she was instructed, not wanting to gamble with two rounds of buckshot primed and aimed at her back. She was quickly escorted to the middle of the road where the air was clear, and she saw ahead of her a floating cart. What immediately caught her eye was a huge omnic the size of a Super Mutant, if not bigger – wearing a fur-leather jacket, tiny bowler hat, and "mustache" welded to his metal face – carrying an egg-shaped silver crate to the floating cart. Someone stood on the cart, wearing a long, black coat with the Deadlock logo inscribed on the back in gold, a black hat with a very wide brim, and a head of solid-white hair.

"Hey, boss! Look what I found," the man said as he walked in front of Veronica, keeping that shotgun aimed at her. Revealing himself to be wearing a sleeveless leather vest, leather chaps, and a stahlhelm with goggles and a yellow Deadlock bandana mask.

The "boss" turned around to reveal the front of her western business attire donning a red tie, having multiple straps and belts wrapped around her midsection, armor plating all over her right arm, and exposed forearms showing off tattoos etched into pale skin. Beneath that big hat with a golden ornament were a set of blood red eyes. The rest of her face was obscured by another Deadlock bandana.

"Huh… Now, who are you supposed to be?" the woman asked with a drawl in her voice.

"Uh… Hi…" Veronica cautiously greeted as she looked around to see there were more men about, all of them Deadlock members. Counting at least a dozen from where she was. Some wearing stahlhelms, others not. "Well, this is awkward, but I think there's a misunderstanding here."

"Usually I'd agree. Tourists usually don't come up 'round these parts. For good reason."

She swung an ornate lever-action rifle to her supporting arm – black and gold with red highlights.

"What's with the getup? You a doctor? If so, what're you doing with a fist like that?" the gang boss questioned, gesturing to her arm with the muzzle of her rifle.

'Oh god, what would Nathan say?' Veronica silently questioned herself, not wanting this situation to immediately escalate into a hail of bullets.

"I'm not a doctor, at least, a medical one. And this fist is for personal protection, but not against you guys in particular. I was certainly not looking for trouble."

The woman cocked her head to the side, smirking under that mask.

"It sure did find you, darlin'."

Suddenly, from behind one of the train cars, Parmley, Rex, and Cooper peeked out. The Ranger pointing his rifle at the head honcho.

"Let her go!" he yelled out, instantly catching the attention of a half-dozen gang members pointing their guns at him in return.

The big omnic took a more defensive stance, but his charge just narrowed her eyes at the man.

"Parmley! Don't!" Veronica yelled, still keeping her hands up. "Rex! Cooper! Stay!"

"But-!"

"Just let me handle this!"

Veronica looked back at the ashen-haired woman, who seemed mostly unfazed. Meanwhile, her robot's eyes twitched nervously from her to Parmley.

"Boy, if you don't do what she says, then she'll regret it," the boss stated, then narrowing her eyes at Veronica. "Nice dogs."

"Thanks," Veronica sighed.

"Now, listen. It seems mighty convenient for y'all to show up here, unannounced and armed nonetheless, so you might understand why I might be a bit cautious. This is the type of business where I can't afford to not be. But I tell you what: if you ain't here lookin' for trouble and don't want to give me and my gang any trouble, then I'd be more than obliged to send y'all on your merry way."

The boss shrugged, casually swinging her rifle up and resting it on her shoulder. "After you and the Texas Ranger-wannabe drop your weapons and tell those dogs to heel."

Parmley, obviously, took offense to that but held back from squeezing the trigger for Veronica's sake. His finger hovering mere millimeters from it, though.

"That's, uh, more foreboding than it needs to be. But it's not like we have much of a choice in this scenario," Veronica relented, feeling the dozen or so rifle barrels on her. With Jack and Ana nowhere to be seen, their Power Armor and Energy Weapons buried, and still charting through alien territory, she knew the odds weren't in her favor.

"Smart girl. Smarter than most," the boss smirked. "Hope y'all don't mind rope burns."

"Wow, at least buy me dinner, first, Miss… Uh, what was your name?"

However, before they could even get to tying ropes around her and the others, one of the gang members walked up to the destroyed truck. Studying it carefully.

"Hey, wait a minute," the gang member said, pointing at the truck. "I-I know that truck! Belongs to some old geezer in Goodsprings!"

The Deadlock boss' smirk faded when she heard the name of that town, looking over to what he was talking about. Veronica felt a chill go up her spine when she realized.

"Goodsprings?" the boss asked.

"Yeah! And… Wait!"

The gang member slowly walked up to the wrecked truck, going over to the trailer hitched at the back. Veronica felt her heart skipped a beat as she carefully watched him go over to the trailer and peek under the tarp. Not even a second later did he jump back after seeing what was concealed underneath.

"That armor… That's the armor they ran us out of town with!" the man exclaimed before spinning around and pointing an accusatory finger at Veronica. "That's the bitch who punched Bill and Javier to death!"

Now, every Deadlock member stood still as they stared at the woman in the doctor's coat, Power Fist held up high into the air. Veronica saw their boss' expression, at first hard to read because of the bandana, reveal itself to be a snarl with red-lipstick when she took it off.

"Is that so…?" her drawl seeped venom, red eyes glaring rifles at Veronica.

An omnic in gang apparel with a green hood slowly got to a position on a trail just to the left of them and had a sniper rifle up to his shoulder, his crosshairs switching between Parmley and Veronica. Eventually, they settled on Veronica, being in the wide open with no one in the crossfire. Unfortunately for the omnic sniper, Boone perched on the diner's roof and had a clear view of him. It wasn't long before he took the first shot.

A crack echoed across the gorge as a rifle round impacted the omnic sniper's and sent him tumbling to the ground, screaming. Veronica quickly dropped her arms and shot a straight jab to the gang member who caught her and was closest, turning the front of his face into pink mush. That was when the rest of the gang started firing, turning the gorge into a small warzone.

Veronica ran to the truck, under fire. The gang member who made the discovery fired at her, but he wasn't able to get a bead as she quickly closed the distance and threw a lethal right hook into the side of his face. Then, taking cover as a rain of bullets and buckshot ruined Clark's truck even more.

Parmley fired, taking cover in a train car and trying to get targets. Rex and Parmley ran and bolted for the cart where the boss stood, firing her rifle with lighting speed at Parmley and Boone. She didn't see the dogs until Rex barked and knocked her off the cart with a soundwave. As she tried to get back up, Cooper hopped on the cart and was about to lunge and sink his canines into her but was batted away by a Route 66 sign by the huge omnic, who had just ripped the signpost out of the ground. Cooper flew with a yelp, sent flying and tumbling across the ground. Veronica watching in horror as he rolled off a cliff.

"Cooooopppeeerrrr!" she let out a blood-curdling scream as she watched Nathan's dog fall from sight, leaving a small cloud of dirt in the air. Tears already welling up in her eyes.

She failed to protect one of the last few things Nathan cherished before his disappearance.

Meanwhile, Rex tried to bark at the big omnic but wasn't able to knock him off his feet, so he latched his fangs onto the signpost. Rex tried to wrestle the sign from out of the omnic's hands but couldn't as the omnic swung him towards the rock and he went out with a whimper. His brain thoroughly jostled by that. The omnic stared at the robotic dog for a moment before looking up and bringing the signpost up just in time to block shots from Parmley's rifle. His boss had gotten up, putting her hat back on.

"B.O.B! Do somethin'!" she shrilly screamed.

B.O.B placed the sign back into its post, tipped his tiny hat forward, and jutted out his right arm. Then, his wrist separated and formed into three, double-barreled cannons that fired energy bolts towards Parmley, whose cover was now being chipped away. Boone had a limited view of B.O.B and tried to line up a headshot on him, but precise, rapid-fire rifle shots from the boss' lever-action caught him by surprise. The Sniper, unfortunately, going against a fellow crack shot and having to displace to better cover.

As she fired her lever-action towards the roof of the diner and flushed out their sniper, she heard a bloodthirsty scream and saw Veronica run from out of the truck and charge her with that truck. One of the men got in her way and had his lower jaw shot off by her fist as she ran over to the cart. Veronica closed the distance as she reached for her sidearm, but B.O.B slammed Veronica into the side of the cart and knocked the wind out of her. Parmley yelled out and tried to cover Veronica but had his rifle shot out of his hands, sent writhing to the floor and clutching his hand. The boss worked the lever of her rifle to eject the spent cartridge before she looked down at Veronica, who was clutching her chest.

Without much hesitation, the gang boss bent down and grabbed Veronica by the throat, holding her in front. She then drew her sidearm, which was a double-barreled shotgun and held that to Veronica's temple. Commanding everyone in her posse to stop shooting, the air of the gorge became startlingly quiet after about a minute of fighting. Boone, the last one holding out, was lying on the roof of the diner with his rifle to his chest and taking cover behind a collapsed neon letter. He couldn't see the road because of the train wrecks, but the gorge carried the gang boss' voice.

"If you don't come out here in the next 5 seconds, I will blow the brains out of your lady-friend with this double-barreled. And after that, I'll use the remaining shell to blow your other friend's brains out!" she threatened, then began. "One!"

Boone sighed, leaning his forehead into his rifle. Now had to a make a choice but couldn't be allowed the courtesy of deciding it through his rifle's scope.

"Two!"

They already traveled so far, they couldn't throw away all of it now. Even if this world seemed to decide otherwise for them.

"Three!"

With or without a scope, decisions never came easy. Especially when those decisions put the lives of people in your hands. He knew that painfully well.

"Four!"

But he remembered the reason he was here, to find the man that helped him cope with those decisions. Live with them.

"Alright, Goddammit! I'm coming out!" Boone yelled, his voice echoing across the gorge as he now worked to climb down.

It didn't take Boone long to climb down the diner and slowly walk out in the middle of the road where the gang could see him, both hands high up in the air with his rifle slung over his shoulder. He stopped just a few yards from where B.O.B. and his boss were, seeing Veronica with a shotgun to the side of her head. Parmley was then escorted to where Boone was by some of the surviving gang members, clutching his bleeding hand. When both men were rounded up and had all matter of firearm pointed at them from multiple angles, the boss let go of Veronica and kicked her towards her friends. Veronica fell on her hands and knees, but her friends quickly helped her get up. The Wasters now had nowhere to go.

"Want us to waste 'em, boss?" one of her goons asked, forcefully taking Boone's rifle off his shoulder with a gun at the ready.

The boss regarded all of them with those blood-red eyes, her finger tapping the trigger guard of her double-barreled. B.O.B blinking and looking between her and them.

"Nah, I ain't done with them, yet," their boss said. "Tie them and their mechanical mutt up and put 'em on the cart. Take whatever's in that truck of theirs, too. See what makes it so…  _Lethal_."

The Deadlock gang did as they were told, only taking a few minutes to tie up the Wasters with rope before plopping them onto the cart. B.O.B. had little trouble grabbing everything from the truck, the trailer was even intact enough to just be hitched to the cart itself. The gang also gathered some of their dead, putting them next to the Waster's as well. Once the gang of outlaws got everything they wanted, and then some, their boss rode up to the cart with her red hovercycle and looked at Veronica, gagged with a bandana.

"By the way, sweetheart, the name's Ashe. And welcome to Deadlock Gorge," Ashe introduced herself, bearing an unwelcoming scowl. "Let's ride!"

Altogether, her gang of bikers flew across the road and the sounds of their engines roared across the gorge when they kicked up dust. The Wasters and their belongings along for the ride.

In just a few seconds, the Deadlock Gang was gone. Long leaving before the federal government could even arrive to investigate. For a while, the gorge was quiet aside from the sparks of electrical fire and the creaking beams of the destroyed rail line. However, along a little trail that dipped below Route 66 along the edge of the canyon near Clark's truck, Cooper slowly limped into view. Whimpering as he held up his right front-paw up and had to make do with the remaining three. Ever so slowly and delicately, he walked over to the front of the diner where much of the train wreckage was but stopped as he got to a small pile of rubble. He sniffed at the ground around the pile, pushing his nose into it as he couldn't use any of his front paws to move the dirt.

Then, the wooden and metal beams began to move when a hand reached out and clawed at the dirt. Cooper's tail wagged, ever so slightly, as he grabbed the hand and tried to pull back with as much strength as he could muster. Eventually, Jack Morrison crawled out of the pile of rubble with one arm, clutching Ana Amari in the other.

When they finally got out from underneath the pile, Jack checked to see if Ana was still alive. She was – barely.

Grunting through the pain he felt in his abdomen, he picked her up in his arms and walked towards the remains of Clark's truck to salvage what he could, whistling after Cooper to follow. After ripping off the driver's door with his Super-Soldier strength, he reached in and was able to retrieve his mask, jacket, and rifle. He was also able to retrieve most of her belongings, too, but her mask was too damaged to even bother.

He knew they wouldn't have long until the US Military would come and investigate what just happened to their train, possibly bringing the Federal Marshals along with them. So, commandeering one of the fallen gang member's hoverbikes, he placed Ana, wrapped in her coat, on the seat with Cooper in front of her. Putting on his mask and jacket, putting their belongings into a duffle bag the bike had, Jack put himself behind Ana and Cooper to make sure he had ahold of them while he drove. Able to reach the handlebars where he was, he twisted the throttle and they sped off onto the old road.

To anywhere but there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Just wanted to give a heads-up that college is going to start again for me in a few days, so updates will slow down or stop for the time being.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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